


Desperation: Trust's Cradle

by Fisticuffs



Series: Down and Out [1]
Category: Lost
Genre: Alpha!Jack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Kid Fic, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, omega!Sawyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 103,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fisticuffs/pseuds/Fisticuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An island lacks many amenities. Some can be overcome. Others will not be ignored. When his stash runs thin, Sawyer resorts to drastic measures: asking for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Season One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never considered writing a fic with A/B/O dynamics. I largely dislike (actually hate) the genre for my own reasons, but every so often I might stumble on a good one. But I got a little inspired with an idea and decided to write one myself with Jack and Sawyer.
> 
> I haven’t actually seen Lost in awhile, but I’m rewatching the series right now to make sure I get things right. ;)
> 
> This starts at what would be the end of episode twelve, ‘Whatever the Case May Be.’

“Hello denizens of Cave Town,” Sawyer said, loudly announcing himself as he walked in from the jungle. “I come in peace to the worshippers of the water.”

Jack sighed. It was too late. He was too tired. And at the moment, Sawyer’s yelling felt like roadwork on top of a hangover. “Just fill your bottles and go,” he muttered.

“Not here for a fill up,” Sawyer said. He sauntered over to Jack with lazy purpose. “But I wouldn’t mind a word with you if that’s all right.”

Jack shrugged, giving Sawyer his permission to go ahead with whatever he had to say.

“Not here.” He shook his head. “Let’s go for a walk, Doc, moonlit stroll. I’ll even let you hold my hand.” He stuck his hand out with a mocking grin. Jack knocked it away.

“I’m really not in the mood to go out walking.”

Sawyer swallowed hard and there was a flicker of naked distress in him. It was gone quickly though, its presence debatable. He leaned in, closer than acceptable, and whispered, “I would... appreciate it.”

He sounded desperately insistent, though he would never have used those words in his own description. Jack was compelled to go with him, to hear him out, for curiosity’s sake if nothing else. “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

They walked far from camp, to new territory that had been labeled ‘too dangerous.’ Every time Jack said they had gone far enough, Sawyer pushed him on for another minute or so.

Finally, when it became irresponsible to go any farther, Sawyer began to speak as he walked, filling the silence they found too easy to keep.

“So you find out what was in that case?” he casually asked, pretending he did not care one way or the other. Jack knew better.

“It’s eating you up, isn’t it?” He smiled and shook his head. “You know, Sawyer, you’re a very curious person.”

“And it’s only cost me seven of my nine lives so far,” he replied with a smirk.

“I’ll keep the last two intact,” Jack said, “by not telling you what’s inside.”

“I’ll find out eventually,” he promised.

“Probably,” Jack agreed. It was inevitable.

Sawyer stopped at last. He turned around. Perhaps they had finally walked far enough from camp to satisfy his paranoia. No one could hear whatever secret he had to say. It was only them.

“Listen,” he said, averting his eyes, betraying that the next words were indeed his true purpose for hiking to the caves at night, for dragging Jack away, “those meds you’re givin’ me for my knife wound... Cephalexin...” He stalled on the name for a second but recalled it excellently.

“You’ll get them,” Jack said, “as agreed. Don’t worry, Sawyer.”

“I ain’t worried about that,” he said. And still he would not look up. His face was in night’s shadow and caught not a flicker of their torch’s light. “I was just wonderin’ what other drugs you got stocked over in your triage center.”

Jack paused, not seeing any good from such an inquiry. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, “and I’ll see if I have what you need.”

Sawyer chuckled, hoarse and bitter. “Of course it’d go down like that.”

“If you don’t wanna tell me,” Jack said, “I can’t help you, Sawyer. I can’t give away what medicine we have without a valid reason.”

“I’m an omega,” he said with no further preamble. Jack felt his breath catch. He knew his wide eyes— his slack face— were a rude mask of surprise. “Eyes in your head, Doc.”

“Sorry,” he shook his head, clearing it. “I’m sorry. That was insulting. That was... unprofessional.” He took a breath. “You just don’t... you don’t act like an omega. I never would have guessed.”

“I like to think it’s my sunny disposition and never taking crap that comes my way,” Sawyer said with sarcasm and an insincere smile. “But even I with all my independent ways need suppressants. Can’t fight off nature forever.”

“No,” Jack agreed. “No, you, uh, you can’t.” He looked Sawyer over in a new light, knowing the man must have noticed and hated it, but had also expected the treatment. “We’ve been here over three weeks now. What have you been taking?”

Sawyer reached into his pocket and took out a prescription pill bottle. He shook it and the rattle was so minimal. There could not have been many left. “These were mine,” he said, “refilled before I left for Sydney. But I’m runnin’ low, Doc. I’m runnin’ out and I know you rounded up the rest of the drugs. So what’ve you got for me?”

Jack thought through the inventory, knowing he had suppressants but unsure of how many. People going into heat was one of the many things he had not prioritized, though now he knew he should have. “I have some,” he told Sawyer, “but even if it’s a full prescription that only buys you another month.”

Sawyer stepped closer into Jack’s space. He thought he was being intimidating, but Jack could feel the desperation bleeding through. “Then I’ll take that month,” he said.

“It’s yours.” Jack yielded without hesitation. Maybe that was irresponsible, maybe there would be someone who needed it more, but he also knew too many people were looking for an excuse to knock Sawyer down a few pegs. Watching him run out of suppressants and beg any alpha in the camp was not something Jack would wish on his worst enemy, and that included Sawyer. “It’s only a temporary solution,” Jack reminded him once more.

“I know.”

And how resigned he was to that knowledge. Jack felt sorry for him. No one could control how they were born. Most omegas were okay with what life dealt them. Others accepted it with denial and a fight. He could tell that Sawyer was one of those who took it hardest.

“Can I offer...” Jack clenched his jaw, anticipating a fist. “Can I offer an alternative?”

“What?” Sawyer asked. His voice was low and suspicious, like he already knew. Maybe he had heard the proposition before, from someone ‘just trying to help.’

“Wean yourself off,” Jack advised. “Go to half a pill. Skip a day, then skip two days, until you’re out. Sudden withdrawals will only make it worse when it does hit.”

Sawyer’s lips spread in a snarl. There was a silent growl rumbling in his throat. “You think I don’t know what that means?” he spat. “Think I can’t smell it on you, mister in charge alpha man?”

Jack sighed. He knew Sawyer would not take the suggestion well. “It doesn’t have to be me,” he said. “I can have Hurley take a census. We’ll find everyone that’s an alpha. You can pick.”

“Well, aren’t you just the matchmaker from Hell?” Sawyer scoffed. “I can tell you right now that I don’t want any of those assholes in my asshole, capisce?” He glared at Jack, making sure his point came across. “So I’ll take your damn meds.”

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “I said they’re yours, Sawyer.” He dropped his arms and put his hands on his hips with authority. “But you know we’re just gonna be having this conversation again in a month.”

“Then I guess I better pray for a miracle rescue between now and then.” Saying all that he had hiked out there to say, Sawyer turned back around towards camp. “I got two days left so I’ll be needing that prescription asap, Doc.”

They marched back in silence. Sawyer was stubbornly embarrassed. Jack could tell. He worked hard to pawn himself off as an alpha, a beta at least. Macho tasks like chopping wood, the building of a small bartering empire, the independence that bought him, it was all a farce for control. He did not want to be pigeonholed. In some small way— no, in a big way— Jack respected him for it, for all of it, even though it did make the man a horrible human being as a result.

Through all of that respect a doctor’s curiosity, his concern, still rang through. He felt the need to ask those necessary questions. “How long has it been?”

“How long has what been?” Sawyer repeated the question quietly, without turning around, and it was hard for Jack to hear.

“Since you’ve engaged in penetrative sex,” Jack clarified, “with you as the receiving partner.”

Sawyer stumbled, caught off guard by the blunt delivery, but picked his pace back up easily enough. He did not answer. Jack did not have the courage to ask again.

A response did come. And it was a surprise, even with the near three minute gap between it and the question. “Awhile,” Sawyer said, “I guess. I don’t do it often. I’m not much of one for men. Too hard, all angles and chauvinistic domination.”

“I get that.” Sawyer turned abruptly and glared at him. Jack could never understand. “In theory anyway,” he amended. “You know it doesn’t make you gay, right? If anything it’s more natural for you. Your body—”

“Go to Hell, Doc.”

It was an angered response but spoken so hushed. Jack overstepped his bounds. He had always been told his bedside manner was horrible— too clinical, too factual. He apologized but Sawyer did not seem to care.

They did not speak for the rest of the walk back.

When they reached the caves most everyone else was asleep. Jack searched through his stash of medicine and handed Sawyer what he found. If there had ever been more than one bottle of suppressants, they were lost to the sea. He wanted to check the dosage against Sawyer’s current prescription, but the man took the bottle and left, no ‘thank you’ or ‘goodbye.’

They avoided each other over the next few days. Sawyer had revealed one of his most embarrassing secrets, and Jack understood that he needed some time to recover from that before he could act normally again. Jack gave him space.

+

It was early morning on the fourth day when Sawyer came into the caves, silent as a shadow. He woke Jack with a hand over his mouth, shushing his anticipated yelp of surprise.

“Outside,” Sawyer whispered. He took his hand off Jack. “Get dressed. Pack a bag.”

Jack did as told, action before question. He assumed it was important if Sawyer was approaching him like that, approaching him at all.

The jungle outside was barely lit by dawn. There was a scant dew over the foliage that the tropical sun would soon evaporate.

“What?” Jack asked, his voice still hoarse with sleep. What he would give for a cup of coffee.

Sawyer shook his head and put a finger to his lips, asking for silence. He turned to walk away, indicating that Jack follow.

“No.”

Sawyer stopped in his tracks. His shoulders slumped.

“No,” Jack repeated. “No, we’re not going through the jungle again unless you tell me why.”

“I’ll explain on the way,” he promised in his quiet whisper. Jack refused to move. Sawyer sighed but the breath got caught in his throat. The second half came out like some strained whimper. And Jack understood.

“You quit, didn’t you?” he presumed. “You stopped taking your suppressants.” Sawyer nodded like he had something to feel guilty over. “I told you to wean yourself off.”

“I’d rather just get it over with,” Sawyer said, finally speaking at a normal volume. “The pills you gave me,” he shook his head, “they’re less than half my goddamn dose. I’d be out again in two weeks just tryin’ to compensate.”

“Okay.” Jack tried to think, to force an hour of decision making into a minute. “How long do you think you have before it hits?”

Sawyer thought hard but in the end had no good answer. “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t been off the stuff for a damn decade or more. I can’t remember how it works. Couple hours maybe. Which is why I’d like to get goin’ if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, freaking out in Sawyer’s stead. How was he maintaining such calm? “Okay, we’ll- we’ll interview the camps, find the single alphas. You can sit here if you want. I’ll bring you a list and—”

Sawyer cut him off with a laugh. “That’s sweet,” he said, “real kind of ya, Doc. But I was talkin’ about using you.”

“Me?”

“Sure,” he grinned, taking control of the situation, damning omega stereotypes. “In a wreckage of near fifty people, you’re about the only one I trust.” He stepped closer, looking at Jack eye to eye. He ran a dominating hand up the muscles of Jack’s arm, over his shoulder, around his neck. It felt good to be touched. “How’s that for sweet talk?”

Jack closed his eyes. He felt every breath rage through him. Sawyer’s hand was so heavy and hot.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” He opened his eyes and saw a grateful expression. On instinct, he leaned forward for a kiss. Sawyer dropped his hand and backed away.

“Hold on there, hoss.” He busied his hands by holding onto the straps of his backpack. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I like you as a friend, sort of.” He began to walk, led by his own directions to his own destination. Jack followed. “This ain’t nothin’ but a medical condition,” he went on, “and you’re my doctor. Don’t think of it as happy fun time sex.” In a very serious but quiet voice he said, “I promise you I won’t be.”

They walked for half an hour. Jack used the silence for his own worries. Sawyer either had none or kept them well hidden. They were marching towards an intimate affair, though he had been warned against thinking of it as such.

They walked under the sun across an open plain, and when they reached the grove of trees on the other side they stopped for a water break.

“So,” Jack finally asked, “you know where you’re going?”

Sawyer chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “little spot of paradise I set up yesterday. Far enough away we don’t have to worry about nobody walkin’ in on us. ‘Cause I don’t know about you, but I’m fresh outta ties to hang on the door.”

“Tie,” Jack grinned. “That’s a good one.” It went quiet again and he nodded his head distractedly. “And I know you said it’s been awhile,” he commented, “awhile since your last heat, but how long do they usually go on? I’ll stay with you the whole time,” he promised, “but I also don’t want to be away from camp for too long. I left word saying I might be gone two days.”

“How long, huh?” Sawyer took a minute to consider that. “You know how I said I don’t like bein’ with other guys?” Jack nodded. “Well, let’s just say that... since puberty hit I’ve only had the two heats.”

“Two!” Jack exclaimed. He ran a hand over his head, against his buzzed hair. “Sawyer, that’s not healthy. Two... You’re, what— thirty-three, thirty-four?”

“Thirty-five,” he corrected. “Thirty-five and about to get slammed by the oh so healthy benefits, ain’t I?” He bobbed his head as he tried to recall. “First time was puberty. I was fourteen and it hit me hard, couple hours. Luckily, I had my best good friend in the whole damn world Carl there with me.” He did not sound happy nor fond over the memory at all. Jack wondered what the fallout had been like. “Second time was eleven years ago, lasted just shy of two days.”

“Okay, we’ll prepare for two days then.” Jack rooted around in his backpack. “I brought plenty of food. I got water, but I’m guessing you were smart enough to find a place near a source.”

“That I was,” Sawyer said. “And I took some food up yesterday too, so we should be good.”

They took a few more drinks of water, let their muscles get a good rest, then they started back walking. It was less quiet for the second half of the journey, and Jack felt their conversation had broken the ice.

“So you don’t sleep with men,” Jack said, realizing that if he said things simply, conversationally, Sawyer would respond in kind. “By all accounts it looks like I’ll only be the third.”

“Sorta sounds like there’s a question in there,” Sawyer remarked.

“You sleep with women,” Jack said. “I’m guessing a lot of them. They’re... they’re into that?”

“Oh, they eat it right on up,” Sawyer arrogantly replied. If the question offended him, he did not let it show. He was probably asked a lot. “They think just ‘cause you got some of the same plumbin’ on the inside means you’re a sensitive sweetheart, kinda guy they could raise a family with. Needless to say, it helps my angles.”

“Yeah.” Everything with Sawyer had an angle. Maybe that was why Jack felt good watching him ask for a favor.

Sawyer tapped on the bark of a tree as if it had some special meaning. “Almost there,” he announced.

They walked. After another few minutes Jack noticed that Sawyer was getting winded, or maybe he was panting.

“You okay?” he asked, putting an arm out to steady the man when he faltered. Sawyer jerked like the touch shocked him.

“I’m fine,” he lied, shoving Jack off. “I’m fine. I’m fine and we’re here.”

Sawyer had picked a nice enough place. It was shaded by trees and easily ten degrees cooler for it. The area was split down the middle by a stream that washed over cascading layers of rock. Sawyer walked to the mouth of it, to a stone formation that created a small cave, no more than seven feet deep, maybe five feet high. The water bubbled up from a spring inside it. Beside the waterway there was a shelf and upon it a wide bed of plucked palm leaves. Sawyer threw a blanket over them.

“Not the Hilton,” he said, “but ya gotta give it points for seclusion.”

“If you’re fine with it, I’m fine.” Jack smiled but it felt forced, a difficult thing to do. In a few hours they would be having sex on that blanket. “I’m gonna,” he pointed down the stream where it was deeper, “I’m gonna wash up some.”

“What a gentleman.” Sawyer grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up until he could wipe the sweat of his face on it. Jack had seen the man without his shirt before. Now the sight meant so much more to him. “Maybe I’ll join you.” Sawyer removed his shirt the rest of the way and threw it over his bag. Then he unlaced his shoes and pulled those and his socks off as well. His pants followed. “Here it comes,” he said, edging down his boxers. “Ready to see the goods, Doc?”

Jack looked away out of decency. He began pulling his own shirt off slowly.

Sawyer walked in front of him, completely nude and unashamed. And as he passed, Jack smelled it, smelled him. Suddenly all composure slipped, just a little. The Earth tilted. He felt animalistic and uncivilized. In that moment the jungle, nature, seemed like the perfect place to be.

Then Sawyer was downstream and waist deep in the cool water. Jack breathed in clean air and it cleared his mind. He took off his clothes but left his underwear on. Sawyer looked disappointed by that when Jack joined him.

“What, you not gonna let me see it?” he asked with a smirk. “Least you can do before you stick it up my ass.”

“How are you so easygoing about this?” Jack demanded, confused by Sawyer’s shameless words and feeling embarrassed for them.

“I have to be. Can’t let it mean anything,” Sawyer replied factually. “With women it’s just sex. With men it’s about gettin’ it over and done with before I make too big a fool of myself.” He dragged a rag over his chest and around his neck, wiping away the dirt and sweat. “I’m never gonna be somebody’s husband. Damn sure ain’t gonna be no one’s little wife. Like you said, Jack,” the use of his actual name was attention grabbing, “just my body’s nature. My mental faculties know I don’t wanna play house. But I also know that real soon I’m gonna want you to push my knees up ‘round my ears. Why deny either? We’re in the wild, baby.”

Jack said nothing in return. He had nothing to say about it. He bathed himself, just as he had gotten in the water to do. “You know, I think it’s really great,” he said, “how you don’t let it hold you back. I think the world needs more omegas like you.”

“Aw gee, Doc, am I blushing?” Sawyer sarcastically replied.

Jack shook his head but smiled. It figured that Sawyer would not take a compliment, not one such as that. Jack finished up washing and his hands lingered on the waistband of his boxers. It was only considerate to clean there as well. He took them off, balancing on one foot at a time while Sawyer made demeaning catcalls.

“Behold,” he announced, “the Loch Ness Monster surfaces.”

Taking a page from Sawyer’s book, Jack decided to act like it was no big deal. He took attentive care in washing and only looked up when he realized it had gone quiet.

Sawyer was openly looking at his cock, watching Jack move it, hold it. He groaned low in his throat. His shoulders curled in towards his chest, making him look smaller and defensive.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe. Might’ve... had my clock off a bit.”

“Do we need to get out?” Jack took a step forward and Sawyer took one back.

“You first. I’ll follow.”

The instinctual fear against having an alpha behind him while in heat made Jack feel guilty for something that was not his fault. He knew he would have to fight every one of his own impulses and take things at Sawyer’s pace and command.

Jack walked back to their small, makeshift camp. Despite what he said, Sawyer did not follow immediately. Jack took the opportunity to start a fire just outside the mouth of the cave. They had no need of it at that time of day, but he doubted either of them would be in the right frame of mind to do it later. Feeding it wood might even be too hard of a task.

When Sawyer did walk up he was toweling himself off on a shirt far too large to belong to him. He patted his arms dry and his chest. He lingered over his crotch, giving it more attention than it needed. He rubbed through the shirt, and it was obvious he had given up all pretense of civility and began masturbating.

It was salacious and obscene, and Jack was choking to watch it.

“Sit down,” he said. It sounded too much like a growled order and he told himself to behave. Sawyer obeyed quickly, and Jack became aware that he had too strong of a power at his disposal. A worse man, a horrible, evil man would exploit Sawyer. Jack convinced himself not to be that man.

“Uh, um,” Sawyer stammered, trying to think in a time when rationale was leaving him. “Ground rules. Rules, all right.”

“Tell me,” Jack said. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Condoms in my pack,” Sawyer said. Jack grabbed it at once and handed it to him. He pulled out a large handful, and Jack would not have been surprised if he took every single one he found while looting, storing them up like some perverse squirrel anticipating a blizzard. He threw his bag away. “Look at me.” Jack did but Sawyer was not pleased with the lack of intensity in his eyes. “Look at me, damn it.” Jack stared into him. It was a distraction from the pheromones quickly pervading their small cave. “I’m gonna say some things,” he said, “things that are gonna contradict everything I’ve been sayin’ the whole walk up here.”

“Okay,” Jack said. He was trying so hard to listen, but he was starting to feel dizzy, like there was too much blood pounding in his head, thundering in his ears. Sawyer slapped him.

“Listen to me,” he shouted. “I don’t want to get pregnant. It’s my only rule.”

“I know,” Jack said. “That’s why we have the condoms. I wouldn’t do that to you, Sawyer.”

“Oh god, call me James,” he gasped, speaking out in one breath as he lost track of his own conversation and drifted off. He raised his legs up, bending his knees and parting them. Jack crawled between them like the invitation it was.

“James?” he asked. “Is that supposed to be your real name? James?” Sawyer closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay, James, I promise I will not get you pregnant.”

“That’s the thing,” Sawyer panted. He mind was losing in priority to his body, and it was happening very fast. “I’m gonna ask you to. Don’t trust me.” He stuck a finger in Jack’s face like he was scolding him. “Don’t you believe a goddamn word comin’ out of my mouth. You understand me, Jack?”

“Yes.”

“Now kiss me,” he ordered.

Jack did not need to be told twice.

Sawyer tasted like stale cigarettes, though he had not smoked one in Jack’s presence that entire morning. It pervaded and lingered. It was different.

The kiss itself was so rushed Jack could not enjoy it. He doubted Sawyer did either.

It was unfair, a cruel lie of omission, but Jack had never been with someone in heat before. Perhaps fate was odd that way or perhaps he had a type, but he had never been with an omega, at least not one off suppressants. Jack felt drunk, but with all of his senses heightened instead of dulled. He kissed Sawyer like he wanted to own him. Sawyer kissed back greedily, holding onto control like he did not want to be owned.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jack said, panting hard against the man’s cheek. He felt himself falling so easily to the heated situation. He was aware of every nerve ending in his cock, every vein that filled with blood and fever.

“Sorry,” Sawyer laughed, breathed, “can’t say the same. I’m not into guys.”

Jack laughed as well at the truth, the absurdity, of that statement. He kissed Sawyer again and it had a little more composure to it, their frantic savagery having been momentarily met on that surface level. Jack’s hands drifted down Sawyer’s sides, those hard muscles under hot skin. He touched the shirt Sawyer was still covering himself with. It offended him. He pulled it away and threw it in the general direction of their bags.

Sawyer was naked beneath him. What a sight, what a rush. They were roughly the same height, and if they were not the same weight, then Sawyer perhaps had a few pounds on him. But seeing the man in that moment, like he was, made him look small, vulnerable, desperate. Jack had no idea he needed it so badly.

Sawyer began fondling himself, jerking that omega cock, void of knot and a few inches smaller than Jack’s own. He could have watched the show for hours, watched Sawyer try to get himself off with one hand while leaning back on the other.

“You need a knot, don’t you?” Jack asked, and his voice sounded too deep to be his own.

“Hell yeah I need a knot,” Sawyer said. “You gonna give it to me, Jack?”

“I am,” he said, then he leaned over Sawyer’s body and whispered in his ear, “if you do what I say.” Maybe he was not a good man after all. But maybe Sawyer did not want a good man for his heat. He wanted an alpha.

“Bastard,” he cursed. He bucked his hips as if better leverage could make him orgasm. But during heats omegas needed more stimulation for that. Jack’s textbook on reproduction had contained half a chapter on it alone. “What do you want me to do?” Sawyer was turning whiny, pliable.

“On your knees,” Jack said. “Turn over. And don’t touch yourself until I say so.” It did not matter if he touched himself or not. Sawyer would not come until he could come. But it felt nice to exercise the power, to test a boundary.

Sawyer defied him with all the stubborn willpower he had left. But then he dropped his cock, and he turned over, digging his knees and his palms into the rough blanket.

With Sawyer up on display like that Jack could get a good view of his ass, of that puckering hole that looked wet with the right angle of light. It would be a mess before they were through. Jack wanted him to spend their entire second day in a grimacing recovery before he could even think of walking back.

He put his hands on either side of Sawyer’s ass. The man shivered at the contact, at the anticipation. Jack pulled it apart, enjoying the view. His thumb dipped down and touched Sawyer’s hole, covered it. He did not push inside. He simply pressed against the rim, applying far too little pressure.

“I didn’t bring you out here to tease, damn it,” Sawyer barked angrily. But Jack was in control now.

“You want it?” he asked. He pushed in a little more, still not penetrating. “You want my thumb, a couple of fingers? Then my cock, my knot?”

Sawyer nodded his head furiously. “Yes, yes! All of it.”

“Then say it,” Jack ordered.

He expected a fight— an argument with a predictable ending— but Sawyer gave in so easily. “Stretch me,” he begged. “Use your damn fingers and get me ready for your cock. Please Jack. I need...”

With such subservient words as those Jack could hardly turn him down. He pushed his thumb in and Sawyer whimpered. “Feel good?” He nodded. “You want more?” He nodded again. Jack played with him before obliging. He knew how much the average omega could take at once, but that was lessened for someone who had not had sex for over a decade. Sawyer was practically a virgin.

Jack pushed in and out, a small, inefficient form of sex. It got Sawyer excited though, and soon Jack was smearing his rim with a glistening wetness. It smelled intoxicating and Jack felt animalistic once more. He stuck his other thumb in without warning and Sawyer liked that too.

“More,” he asked for. But Jack would take it slow, get him to each level at the right time.

He worked his thumbs at opposing intervals, rubbing them against each other as one went in and the other pulled out. After a minute he stuck them in together and spread them apart on the way out. Sawyer moaned and pleaded for more of that stretch.

Jack pulled his thumbs out and quickly stuck his index finger in. It was longer and he knew right where he was aiming.

“Fuck,” Sawyer drawled, sucking in a breath. “Do it again. Please, Jack. Please, please, pretty fucking please, goddamn it.”

Jack liked seeing Sawyer so amiable and agreeable, but it still sat heavy in his stomach that nature forced him to it. In the back of his mind he remembered the respect he had for Sawyer’s independence. But all that mattered in a heat was pleasure, so Jack pressed against Sawyer’s prostate again.

“You like that, James?” he asked, using Sawyer’s name as instructed. It had a very positive affect.

“Mm,” he moaned. “Mm-hmm.”

Jack pushed another finger in and stroked him with both. Sawyer was so slick, so wet. It practically dripped from him. Jack was finally seeing omega biology outside of a textbook, and he understood the appeal.

Unmindful of his own planned progression, Jack stuck a third finger in. It was all Sawyer could take.

“Damn it,” he growled, ”fuck me already before I gotta use my own fist.”

Jack pulled his fingers out and sat back on his heels. “Have you done that before?” Just thinking about it, picturing the image, made him want to come right there. He grabbed the end of his cock and squeezed hard, painfully hard. “Does that work?” His books never covered depravities such as that.

“No, I ain’t done it!” Sawyer shouted at him. “But we’re about to find out if you don’t get a move on.”

Jack closed his eyes and breathed deep. Thinking of his next step was like driving through dense fog. What was Sawyer doing to him, his mind?

“Condom!” Sawyer yelled.

Of course. Jack needed a condom before he...

Somehow the soon to be realized hypothetical of having sex with Sawyer felt intimidating. They were barely acquaintances, nodding at each other on a good day, outright hating on a bad one. But it was true what Sawyer said; it was a medical condition, if one of a carnal nature, and Jack was a doctor.

His fingers twitched around the condom’s wrapper until he gave up and tore a corner off with his teeth. Jack rolled it over his cock with all the prowess of a virgin teenager. His knot was swelling already, spurred on by the smell of pheromones and the lewd imaginings of his own brain. He pulled the condom over his knot, snapping it into place.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sawyer kept raving at him. He had dropped from his hands to his elbows, making a tantalizing view of his ass and the long, sloping line of his back. “Do it,” he said, swaying back and forth, humping air. Jack put a hand on the firm muscle of his ass to keep him still.

He took a breath, two. On the third one, he fitted the head of his cock to Sawyer’s wetted hole. On the fourth breath, he pushed in. On the fifth, he cried out at the overwhelming sensation.

Sawyer was so hot inside, so unnaturally, feverishly hot against the sensitive skin of his cock, even through the condom. ”Damn it,” Jack hissed, slipping in further. “God, Sawyer— James,” he quickly corrected, “you’re so hot, so tight.”

“More,” Sawyer gasped, not satisfied but getting there. “Keep going. Keep going, Jack.”

It felt masochistic to continue. There was so much pleasure to be reaped from that burning heat which squeezed him. It was too much. And like Sawyer, he wanted more. He wanted to stuff the man with every inch he was. He wanted to ruin them both for anyone else.

Jack groaned as he pushed further in, a long sound that endured until he was out of breath to sustain it. Then his mouth hung open in slack bliss. He sucked in air and pulled out an inch. Sawyer whined at the loss, so Jack fed it back to him, slamming deeper in, wrapping his cock with that heat.

“You feel so good,” Jack gasped.

“Tell me.” Sawyer clawed at the blanket in front of him, dragging it up until he exposed the palm leaves beneath. “Tell me how good I feel.”

Jack’s mind was too incoherent to spin complete sentences. He relinquished control to the ignorant, primal side of himself. “You’re so hot,” he panted. “You’re so hot inside I almost can’t stand it. You’re so tight I feel like I could come right now.”

“Not yet,” Sawyer protested, a biting whine. “I need more, damn it. You gotta give me more.” He needed to come worse than Jack did, but he never would without a knot.

Jack thrust deeper in. He angled his head down to look at the sight of it, to see Sawyer’s ass taking every bit of him. “Almost there,” he said. “You’re so greedy, James. You need it all, don’t you?” Sawyer nodded his head. “You should see yourself trying to grab on. It’s just— it’s pushing right in.” He pulled out a little and watched Sawyer’s rim cling to his cock, puckering out. “It doesn’t want to let me go.” The condom was glistening with the slick wetness it had forced itself into. Jack pushed back in hard, one thrust and it was all in. “You feel that?” he said, rocking back and forth. “You feel that resting against your ass? It’s my knot.” Sawyer moaned and it was a pathetic, needy sound. “You don’t even care how much you just took.” Jack spread his hand out over Sawyer’s lower abdomen, tracing how far he had gone. “You don’t care. You just want my knot, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Sawyer yelled. “Yes, Jack, goddamn it! Give it to me already.”

Jack leaned over his back and spoke in his ear, “Not yet.”

He wrapped his arms around Sawyer’s chest, laying across his back, holding onto him as he began rocking his hips in long, slow thrusts. Sawyer cursed him out with every swear word he knew, but Jack was certain that the gratification would be better if delayed, that Sawyer would tremble if his orgasm was earned.

Jack went in and out, torturing himself with that warmth each time. His head was swimming and his knot was straining. Every time he bottomed out against Sawyer’s ass, he knew he wanted to keep going, to plug him and breed him. He could only imagine the agony, the longing coursing through Sawyer, to lose his control and take only what he was given. Jack dropped his hand down Sawyer’s torso and grabbed his aching, untended cock.

“God,” Sawyer cried. “Yes, please, yes.” He pushed his hips down into that obliging hand, but Jack only squeezed, grabbing his cock and using it to pull him back up to the angle he needed. Then his hand turned kinder again, assisting.

He rubbed up and down Sawyer’s cock, familiarizing himself with its smaller length. He had not been that size since he was a teenager. And that was not to speak against Sawyer. He was well off for an omega, for a normal man. Instead it told on the size of an alpha, that large size Sawyer was loving.

Jack moved his hand further back and cupped Sawyer’s balls. He moaned, loud and shameless. “That feel good?” Jack asked. “You only use these with women, huh? You ever have any pregnancy scares? Have you?” Sawyer nodded his head, just a little bit, just enough to tell it had moved. “Does it make you jealous? You wish it was you?” It was inappropriate and over the line. But hormones affected him almost as badly as they did Sawyer, and he needed an answer for his own lusting mind. “Do you wish it was you getting pregnant?” Jack repeated, louder.

“Yes!” Sawyer shouted. “Yes, I do, yes!”

Jack was stunned for a moment, caught off guard by the answer even though he wanted it. He dropped Sawyer’s balls and staggered in his thrusts.

“Don’t stop,” Sawyer quietly begged. Jack picked his pace back up immediately. He wrapped his fingers around Sawyer’s cock and continued jerking him off, knowing nothing would happen yet but that he would be grateful for the stimulation.

“You want that, don’t you?” Jack muttered, stepping through the door he had opened. “You want my cock and my knot, James? Why? Is it because you want a baby?”

“Yes,” Sawyer gasped. He sounded so surprised that Jack was going that direction, saying those things, but also he enjoyed it. “Yes, yes.”

“You want me to fuck you until you’re pregnant,” Jack continued, hoping Sawyer would not hold what he was saying against him later. It was making him hot though, feeding his alpha mind to imagine Sawyer, an omega, pregnant. “I want to, James. I want to give it to you until you’re dripping and pregnant and everyone knows what I did to you.”

Jack had never been very good at dirty talk. In fact, he had only ever tried it once before, and the result had been an unfavorable failure that thoroughly killed the mood. But when he was with Sawyer, when his mind was drugged and getting out of its own way, everything came so easily. Jack was riling himself up. Sawyer was loving it.

And then it went wrong.

“Take it off,” Sawyer said, a low, guttural growl.

“What?”

“Take it off,” he repeated insistently, “take it off. Take the goddamn condom off.” He began shaking his head and pulling away from Jack. “Take it off already, damn it!”

Jack grabbed onto the hard bone of Sawyer’s hips, keeping him still. “James,” he called, trying to rationalize with the man, to bring him back. Instead Sawyer kept shaking his head and pulling away, pulling himself off Jack so they could get rid of the condom between them. “Sawyer,” Jack said, and the chosen nickname grabbed his attention, though not enough. “Sawyer. Sawyer! You told me very clearly, in no uncertain terms, that you did not want to get pregnant from this.”

“I was lying,” he panted. Then he repeated himself over and over in a breathless whine. “I was lying. I was lying.”

“I’m not gonna do it,” Jack told him, speaking in a firm, calm voice. “Not while you’re like this. When you’re lucid we can talk again. Next time, all right? Next time.”

Sawyer nodded along slowly, processing what Jack said as it pierced the fog of his brain. Then he decided ‘no’ to waiting. “Take it off, damn it!”

He raised up, pushing off the ground to kneel. Jack grabbed him, holding his arms with an insufficient grip as Sawyer tried to reach behind himself and remove the condom.

“Let go of me!”

“No,” Jack said, still attempting reason. “No, Sawyer— Sawyer!— if I do that you’ll never forgive me.”

Sawyer broke an arm free and elbowed Jack in the stomach. He lost his hold for a second, and Sawyer reached back, clawing at the condom.

Jack pushed him away, separating them completely. He turned his back to Sawyer and inspected the integrity of the condom, but it looked like his fingernails, blunt as they were, had worn it thin in several places, just shy of tearing.

“Damn it,” Jack swore under his breath as he pulled it off and threw it away.

“Now we’re talkin’,” Sawyer sighed as he leaned over his shoulder.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jack told him. He reached for the small pile of condoms to take another, but Sawyer grabbed his hand. He grabbed him with a man’s strength, not an omega’s subservience.

“Let’s do it,” he said, a pleading argument. “You know you want to, Jack. You just said. C’mon, let’s make us a baby. I want you to do it.”

Jack pulled his hand away. “No,” he said, “I’m not gonna let you do this.” He picked up a condom, but Sawyer fought him for it. They tussled over the small wrapper until it finally slipped through Jack’s fingers and his hand flung back, smacking Sawyer in the nose. The man went reeling, clutching his face.

“You made my damn nose bleed!” Sawyer shouted as he pulled a hand away to examine. If the hit did anything, it brought him to his senses for a moment. He wiped more blood away on the back of his hand. It was minimal and he would be fine.

“Head forward,” Jack advised, “pinch your nose. It’ll stop in a minute.” With Sawyer distracted, Jack was free to return to what he was doing, what the morning after version of them both would be glad he did.

His hands shook as though he had too much strength and energy for so simple a task. The wrapper felt small in his hands, too delicate. He finally got a grip on one corner and ripped. He rolled it on and covered himself again while Sawyer sat back against the cave wall holding his nose.

“I know you wanna feel me without that stupid thing in the middle,” Sawyer said. “I know you want it.” If he was trying to be seductive, the nasally sound of his pinched nose rendered the spell inert. Jack almost wanted to laugh, but he was, despite the frantic detour they had taken, still very turned on.

“It would be nice,” he confided, being honest. “But you don’t want kids.”

“I do though,” Sawyer groaned. He took his free hand, the one not holding back blood, and began touching himself again. He was a wanton, lustful figure. “I was lyin’, Jack. That’s what I do. It’s what I... It’s what I do.” He dug his heels into the blanket over and over, pawing at it, trying to take his mind off his frustration. “I trust you, Jack. I trust you. I wouldn’t mind if it was you.”

Jack crawled between Sawyer’s legs. He put his hand on one knee and pushed it to the side, making a better space for himself. They would face each other, eye to eye, so Jack could watch for anymore sudden outbursts. “We’ll talk about it,” he promised. He took a hand and pulled Sawyer’s own away from his nose, content to see the bleeding had stopped. “When you’re done and when you are thinking logically again, James, we will talk about this.”

Sawyer moaned a breathy sigh as Jack pushed back in, giving him what his body so badly desired. “Tell me you’ll do it,” he said. “Tell me you’re gonna fuck me ‘til I’m pregnant, Jack.”

If it was what Sawyer, his omega, needed, then Jack would lie. He built his speed up slowly, bringing himself back to where he had been, then he started picking up his thrusts, determined to knot Sawyer, to make him come, before the man got anymore disloyal ideas in his head. “I’ll do it,” he told Sawyer. “Next time, I’m gonna go in bare and I will knot you over and over again until there’s no doubt.” Sawyer whimpered to hear that. “And if you change your mind, I’ll still keep going. Because I know you now, James, and I know that you are a liar. And I know what you really want. You just want my baby, don’t you?”

Sawyer nodded his head frantically, threatening to start his nosebleed back up. “You’d be such a good daddy, Jack, such a good daddy. Come on,” he said, laying his head back and looking so wanting, so earnest and pleading, “let’s have a baby. I wanna have your baby. Such a good daddy.”

Jack could listen to those incoherent mutterings all day. They swelled his pride and made him long to fulfill that duty. He wanted to impregnate Sawyer. It was driving him crazy that he could not. He needed to see the man carrying with his child, his. But he would wait for that discussion.

It was all he would go on waiting for.

“Here it comes,” he warned, feeling tired and raw, needing to finish them both off. “I’m gonna knot you, James. I’m gonna pump you so full we doubt if you’re not really pregnant.”

“Do it,” Sawyer said, begged. “Give it to me, Jack.”

He nodded and kept going, frenzied thrust after frenzied thrust, pushing harder into Sawyer, hoping each time would be the one he finally forced himself in. Sawyer was still too tight, and Jack realized that it would hurt no matter what he did. But if it was agony either way, he would choose the one that ended.

He stopped pumping in and out, focusing only on his knot and Sawyer’s too small hole. Jack pressed up against him, edging forward bit by bit, watching enraptured as Sawyer stretched obscenely to accommodate him.

“God, god, god,” Sawyer raved, a pain filled bliss. Finally he was getting what he wanted, needed, and the price was so minimal. “Son of a bitch!”

“Widest part,” Jack told him, forcing it in as well. Sawyer’s hole was expanded wide, strained red but still taking it.

Then, finally, Jack slipped inside. The rest went in so easy after that and Sawyer was knotted. He orgasmed immediately, spurting strings of thick come over them both. Jack could not be bothered to think about the mess. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

The feeling was incredible, unparalleled. A knot was too much for people to take outside of heat, unless they were of a very twisted, near masochistic sexuality. Jack had never done it before. In respecting his partner’s limitations, he had never knotted anyone. He felt pathetically grateful to have finally realized the true depths, the intended purpose, of his alpha status.

“Thank you,” he sighed, and he collapsed on top of Sawyer. Jack pulled his hips back just to feel that tight rim squeeze him, to hold him in place and not want him to go.

Sawyer hissed at the painful sensation. “Maybe just,” he panted, “maybe you just stay still a minute. Unless, of course, you got some hot date you’re late for.” Jack laughed at his enduring sense of humor. “Personally I like you right where you are.” Jack could imagine how content he was to have a knot swollen inside of him, to have it pushing mercilessly up against his prostate. “I can almost sorta feel it, all warm,” he said, and somehow Jack just knew what he meant. His cock kept twitching inside of Sawyer, filling the condom bit by bit. His head felt like it was climbing down from a mountain, down to a safe place where the air was not so thin and he could think again. “Never done this facin’ each other before,” Sawyer muttered. “Feels a little weird.”

“I can get behind you,” Jack offered. But when he pulled back, Sawyer cried out to have Jack’s knot tugging on his insides again.

“Next time,” he insisted as he pulled Jack back on top of him. “Next time.”

Once Sawyer mentioned it, Jack felt it. There was an awkwardness that came from facing each other with nothing to do but wait for the next round. Jack decided he would fill that time with intimacy.

He kissed Sawyer and it was a lazy thing, an easy, beautiful thing. He kissed and licked and nibbled every inch of tanned skin he could reach. And always Jack told Sawyer how beautiful he would look when pregnant, such reckless compliments that stroked omega pride.

Jack could tell the moment his knot finally shrunk down enough, when his cock had tried its best and expended all its effort to impregnate Sawyer. He slipped out and Sawyer was immediately dissatisfied.

“Hold on,” Jack told him. “I just need a little while and then I can go again. And you— both of us— need to drink some water.” He looked down at the condom on his limp cock, soaked inside and out and pooling with an obscene amount of come at the bottom. He took it off and tied it up.

In the brief moment it took Jack to get their water bottles and turn back around, Sawyer was already playing with himself, fingering that loose hole. “You did a number on me,” he moaned, taking such pleasure from the idea of being thoroughly wrecked.

“Don’t,” Jack ordered. He pulled Sawyer’s hand away and stuck a bottle of water in it. “You need a break before you start yourself back up again. Drink.”

Sawyer obeyed, reluctantly.

“After the next one,” Jack went on, planning out loud, “we’ll drink _and_ eat. If we can keep up with a good rhythm like that you should make it through okay.”

“I hate sexin’ a doctor,” Sawyer decided.

Jack laughed. “You’ll be thankful tomorrow,” he said, “even if you won’t say so.”

He poured water on his hand and leaned over. The normal human response was to back away when someone reached for your face, but Sawyer came forward, like a cat to be petted. Jack wiped away the dried blood under his nose with gentle care.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“Not my first nosebleed by knockout,” Sawyer told him. “Not even the first one in a bedroom setting.” Jack pulled his hand away, satisfied enough. Sawyer grabbed his wrist and held the open palm against his face. “Don’t. I need you, Jack.”

“Already?” Jack sighed and looked at his watch. “You need to calm down, Sawyer. You’ll exhaust yourself.”

“I want you to exhaust me,” he spoke, nuzzling Jack’s hand.

“I can’t— I... not this quick,” Jack said, gesturing to his own lap. “I can... I could finger you, but it won’t be enough.”

“Well, I need somethin’,” Sawyer said. He laid back down and spread his legs wide.

Jack groaned at the erotic sight of him, that stretched and worn hole he put on display. “Fingers it is.”

They went at each other the entire day. The longest break came in the middle of the afternoon while they were knotted. Jack could not say for certain if Sawyer was napping or had legitimately passed out, but he joined him soon after, taking rest when he could.

Alongside base animalistic desires, they experimented, different durations and positions. Jack actually pushed Sawyer’s knees up past his shoulders like the man said he would, folding him in half. But even through such variance, they knotted while facing each other every time. It lost its flagrant awkwardness. Jack lavished him with kisses, praising his body and telling him how amazing he would look with child.

Sawyer never stopped asking that Jack give him that reality. He begged and he fought for it. Jack did not give in.

They met the night and the intensity began to slow. They slept. Sawyer woke Jack a few times throughout, but the intervals between those grew longer every time.

The last one came shortly after dawn. They were both almost back to a normal mindset. It leaned too closely to a round of casual sex, with the only saving grace being the knowledge that there was still that last burst of energy to run off.

Jack pulled out. He discarded the last condom, but he did not go far. He fell back against Sawyer. They held each other in a loose embrace and neither tried to move.

“That didn’t take so long,” Jack said, trying too hard to sound nonchalant. “Not even a full day.”

“Well, maybe you’re just better than the last guy I was with,” Sawyer contemplated. “Damn better than Carl.”

“I won’t tell Carl if you won’t,” he joked. It made Sawyer chuckle.

“Deal.”

Jack kissed the top of his head, that sweat begotten blond hair, dirty and reeking of expended pheromones.

“I may be a scooch clingy for awhile,” Sawyer said, and as if to give example of that he curled impossibly closer. He nuzzled Jack’s neck and then stayed there, breathing him in. “Don’t mean nothin’,” he added for pride’s sake. “Just instincts.”

“Yeah.” Jack tilted his head up to give Sawyer more room to push in. He rubbed a lazy hand up and down the man’s bare back. “I think I might feel a little,” he searched for any better word but could only say, “possessive. Just for a little while.”

“Mm,” Sawyer murmured. His back arched against Jack’s hand, still thrilled to be touched. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he said, “for now. But you better knock it right on off before we get back to camp. I don’t need no alpha thinkin’ he’s got dibs, treating me like his territory when someone else comes a knockin’.” He raised up and kissed Jack. There was no rush, no lust. It was almost sweet, like they were a couple. “I’m not even into guys,” he said again, repeating himself so many times that it was beginning to sound like a lie.

Jack just leaned up and kissed him back, wondering what the clock was like, wondering how long was left until Sawyer punched him for being so bold.

Jack was a man of science and biology. He knew that how he felt was only a side effect. Memory alone told him that most of the time he actually hated Sawyer. But at that moment the world seemed right. Chemicals still swirling in his brain said that they belonged together, that they would live together, have a family together. And though willpower and one condom after another had prevented that from happening, Jack’s sense of accomplishment from seeing his omega through a heat sent crossed signals. His body lied to itself, saying yesterday’s actions had started that family. Maybe he wanted one after all. But maybe the haze would clear, just like it did for Sawyer.

Jack turned over on his side for a better angle, to kiss as much as he could while he could. Sawyer did not seem to mind until Jack kept going, pushing him onto his back and laying over him.

Sawyer turned his head to the side. “Down boy,” he said, breathing hard around the words. “I am too damn sore and nowhere near in the right frame of mind for our round two.” Sawyer kissed him again then pushed Jack off, a little shove that was more request than actual strength.

Jack backed down without a fight, laying beside him once more. “Yeah,” he shook his head with a jerky motion. “Yeah, that was... a little too far maybe.” Sawyer forgave him for the small burst of dominance and did not cast blame. “You’re sore though?” Jack asked as he sat up. “Do you want me to take a look?”

“Depends.” Sawyer rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his arm. “You think you can keep everything professional?”

“Yes,” Jack promised. “My mind is...” He breathed deep, trying to decipher his own thoughts. “I’m feeling possessive, not aroused. I think my brain believes everything we did actually took. So it’s not looking to continue trying to get you pregnant.”

Sawyer stared at him for a long moment, peering into something Jack felt was personal and secret. He dropped his gaze and turned over, getting on his knees with his head dipped low against the blanket. The angle was perfect for Jack to examine him. Yesterday it had made his cock ache. Today he felt like a doctor again, and patient safety was his highest concern.

He crawled on his knees until he was behind Sawyer. “Red,” he said, giving his first impression, “irritated.” He put the fingers of one hand between the crack of Sawyer’s ass and parted it for a better look. With his free hand he very gently poked and prodded. He spoke as if he were dictating a report. “Skin has temporarily lost elasticity,” which was the nice way of saying that he was gaping. “Should return to normal soon, per standard omega healing properties.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer scoffed, “just in time for you to wreck it again.”

It sounded like a joke, so Jack laughed. Sawyer chuckled along.

“You never been with someone who was in heat before, have you, Jack?”

“Why do you think that?” Jack replied, deflecting the question with his own.

“On account of the fact that you’re still trying to figure out what’s simmering in your own damn head,” Sawyer told him. “I don’t mind none, really. Just woulda liked a heads up.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Jack said. It was true. “I knew I could control myself, but I didn’t want you doubting that because of my inexperience with it.” He pulled his hands away, content with his examination. Sawyer would recover fine after a rest. There were no tears, and that made Jack marvel at how the omega body could stretch and adapt. “You’ll be fine,” he announced. Sawyer wasted no time rolling over on his back again. “I would search for a plant to help the irritation, but I’d rather wait for Sun’s expertise. I’ll ask anonymously, of course— if I can think of a way how.” Sawyer snickered, no doubt picturing Jack trying to mime the question. “Do you think you’ll be okay walking back like that?”

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “It’ll be the most godforsaken uncomfortable thing I ever did, but yeah.”

He seemed content to continue laying around, clearing his mind and resting his body, but Jack felt active, spurred on and alive. He grabbed his clothes and stepped just outside to put them on.

“You’re makin’ me feel indecent,” Sawyer griped. He did nothing to rectify that.

Jack sat back down in the cave and began cutting them up some fruit. He threw Sawyer a bottle of water, who then sat up and sipped at it.

“Thank you, Jack.” It was mumbled, a difficult thing for him to say.

“You’re welcome.”

Sawyer hissed out a laugh. “Ain’t you gonna ask what for?”

“Sorry,” Jack said, “I assumed it was a sort of general thanks.” He passed Sawyer a couple pieces of fruit, but he did not begin eating them yet.

“I was thanking you for not getting me pregnant,” he spoke reservedly. “The other two times that I...” He shook his head. “Well, let’s just say either I lost control or they did. But that’s what the morning after pill’s for, ain’t it?” He would not look Jack in the eye, needing a moment for that selfishness, that shame. “I knew we wouldn’t have none of that out here though. So if an alpha tried to... It had to be somebody I trusted, otherwise I knew I was gonna wind up pregnant again. That’s why it had to be you, Jack. ‘Cause despite what I say when I’m like that, I don’t want no brats runnin’ around.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding his head. He felt a twinge of empathy, like he was glimpsing into the depths of Sawyer’s desperation and self-loathing and understood it as well as him. “Yeah, I wouldn’t do that to you, Sawyer.” Jack pointed to the fruit, gesturing for him to eat. Sawyer complied. “So you’re welcome, I guess. Even though it was my fault for bringing it up in the first place. My mistake, heat of the moment.”

“Nah,” Sawyer told him, “I’d’ve gotten there eventually.”

Jack busied his mouth with their sweet breakfast, hoping he could distract himself from saying what he wanted, what he felt a professional need to do. Silence only lasted as long as the mango. “You know,” he said, unable to stop it, “I’m not a psychiatrist, but you have two very strong opinions fighting against each other here, Sawyer. How do you know which one’s the right one? Have you ever even considered... a family? Who knows, just thinking about it instead of writing it off completely might help balance things out for you, make you less insistent when in heat.”

Sawyer chuckled but there was no humor. It wasted time until he could decide on his reply, until he could pick which course he wanted to take. “Tell ya what, Doc,” he finally said. “I’m gonna do you the biggest damn favor of your life.” He spoke evenly and without emotion. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that. You can thank my morning after buzz. Hell,” he laughed again and it was mocking, “I think you up and cured me of my cuddling problem. You must be some kinda miracle worker.”

Jack sighed and hung his head but said nothing. The message was received. They were done acting like a couple. It was back to acquaintances. Sawyer got up and left the little alcove just to punctuate the end of their sentence together.

When he strolled back in, Sawyer was patting himself dry once more. He had no smell. Jack had glimpsed down the stream occasionally and seen him furiously scrubbing himself, cleansing his body of any trace. There was a red hue to his skin from the over amorous effort. He dressed with his back to Jack. They were not a couple.

Dry but for his hair, clothed but for his shoes, Sawyer sat down on the rock, looking out on their small grove with its damning secret. “You said...” He trailed off, thought better of himself for a full minute. “I think you said... we would talk about it?”

“Oh, uh,” Jack stammered, surprised Sawyer had changed his mind about discussing the matter, “yeah. I mean, honestly I was just trying to- to calm you down in the moment. I knew you would be more open to compromise if I told you we’d have an honest discussion before the next time.”

Sawyer stuck a hand out behind himself, stopping Jack where he was. “I ain’t talkin’ about birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett,” he said. “I meant next time I go off the rails.”

“Of course,” Jack realized. How silly of him to think the man had come to terms with things so quickly. “I’ll help you, Sawyer. As many times as you ask, I will be right here to help.” It was what a leader did, right? He helped his people, even those that fought him every step. “So... until next time, yeah?”

“Next time,” Sawyer murmured pensively.

“Unless we get rescued in the next month,” Jack said. It was a long shot that too many of them were beginning to doubt.

Sawyer crawled back into the cave, surveying the scene. He reached into his bag and grabbed the few condoms that had not been taken out the day before. He added them to the unused pile. He counted, and then he counted them again. “We used almost half the condoms,” he sighed angrily, counting empty wrappers against the gross. “Couldn’t you control yourself a little better, Doc?”

“Hey, you were the one who set the number,” Jack replied with an innocent smile. He did not remind Sawyer of the one he had damaged and wasted. “I held out as long as I could each time.”

Sawyer packed what remained and zipped them away. “That’ll get us through the next one,” he thought aloud. “But after...”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Jack told him. “That gives us almost two months for a rescue. I promise you, Sawyer, I will do everything I can to make that happen.” He made eye contact as he said again, “I promise.”

Sawyer snorted. “Lordy, I think you’re the one that sounds like some sappy omega. Sure you don’t wanna switch? There’s absolutely no perks, but sometimes you get special treatment.”

“I’m good,” Jack said, shaking his head. He could not imagine losing his mind once a month without control. He certainly did not envy those that did. “No, I’m good.”

Sawyer went to grab the corner of his blanket, but Jack pulled it away from him.

“I’ll keep this,” he said, rolling it up into a tight ball. “I’ll wash it as best I can, but nothing short of soap is going to get all the smell out. If I pick up on it, worst case scenario, I get an erection. With you it could trigger an early heat, and that’s the last thing we want.”

“Whatever,” Sawyer relented. “I just better not find you using it as a damn pillowcase like some pervert.”

“I’ll keep it packed away until next time,” he said.

Jack gave them another hour for rest, but eventually they had to start back to camp.

Sawyer complained the entire way about the pain in his ass. He blamed Jack repeatedly but would not suffer the treatment of frequent breaks on his behalf. It was a very annoying hike.

If Sawyer’s mind cleared with the end of his heat, it was fresh air from the return walk that helped Jack. He did not realize so much as remember that he did not want children with Sawyer. Of course not. What a horrible parent he would be, they would be, and stuck on an island no less. Going back to that memory was what he truly needed in order to put the matter behind himself for another month.

People asked where they had been. They answered vaguely, saying they were scouting the area. The trick to a convincing lie, as Sawyer told him, was to never volunteer information. So they spoke within the confines of the question, never overcompensating. Jack was surprised by how quickly people bought it as well as by how few questions were actually asked. No one cared. They were all of them fairly self-absorbed.

That afternoon Sayid and Shannon pulled Jack aside to discuss the maps that had been taken from Rousseau. Michael stumbled upon their discussion and inserted himself, announcing his fledgling plan to build a raft, to sail from the island in search of help.

As soon as the idea seemed practical, Sawyer bought himself passage so that he would be one of the first people off the island. Jack could not fault him for that sense of urgency.

+

Jack watched Sawyer as he hacked at a tall stalk of bamboo, striking it again and again until it fell before him. He was shirtless, but the sight of it did practically nothing for Jack. What a funny thing hormones were.

He gave Sawyer one of the guns without any reservations, trusting him to protect those on the raft. But it was the other thing, the one weighing down his pocket, that Jack hesitated on. He did not hold onto the pills from any primal arrogance like thinking an omega belonged in heat. He simply did not want to bring up the subject they had successfully avoided for two-and-a-half weeks. But postponement could only last for so long.

“Here,” Jack finally said. He reached into his pocket and tossed Sawyer the bottle of pills. “Take the suppressants with you on the raft. There aren’t any alphas going along and even if there were,” he sighed and shook his head, “Walt doesn’t need to see that.”

“I was lookin’ for these little bastards,” Sawyer said. He did not sound pleased that they had disappeared from his tent.

“I took them,” Jack said. “After last time I took them so you wouldn’t do something stupid like messing up your cycle to buy yourself two weeks. We would have ended up right back there again but with wasted pills.”

“My pills,” Sawyer shook the bottle, “my choice.” He stuck them in his pocket. They were his again.

“Now, hopefully you’ll be rescued right off,” Jack said. “If not, I want you to you start taking these in a week, one in the morning, one at night.”

“Yes, sir, Doctor Shephard,” he replied sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“Just... good luck,” Jack said. It was a blanketing sentiment: good luck finding help, good luck surviving, good luck not being stranded at sea so long the suppressants and food ran out.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, “you too.”

Jack’s shoe dug in the dirt, trying to turn him around, to make him leave, but there was one more thing he wanted to say, one more matter of business that was none of his business. “I saw you with Aaron,” he said, and there was no taking it back.

“Excuse me?” Sawyer said. “Who’s Aaron?”

He was playing dumb, but Jack would not call him on it. ”Claire’s baby,” he explained instead. “I saw you... I saw you a couple of days ago, reading to Aaron while Charlie held him. It was really nice of you. And he- he really seemed to like it, to like you. So maybe you do have a knack for this sort of thing, Sawyer. I just... wanted to say.”

Sawyer snorted and shook his head. “It was just reading, Doc,” he said. “Woulda been anyway. Might as well do it out loud. ‘Cause it got the little twerp to finally stop howlin’. And now Mary Poppins owes me a favor that I think I just might collect one day.”

“You’re about to leave on a raft,” Jack said. “You’ll probably never see Charlie, any of us, again.”

“Yeah, I’m not much of one for family reunions,” Sawyer said in agreement. “So I guess this is sayonara.”

“Goodbye Sawyer.”

Jack walked away when Sawyer called him back in turn. He could have had anything to say, any manner of last minute confession left unsaid between them. Jack never could have guessed what it actually was.

Sawyer told Jack about his father, how the universe had aligned in the most unasked for of ways, how it had put one stranger on a barstool beside another. He told Jack that his father loved him and was proud of him.

It was the last thing they said to each other, for a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’d think that with this being 12,000 words there would be a full plot in here. But it’s mostly just sex. I don’t know how I managed to write such a long sex scene. But I did.
> 
> This was really supposed to be a oneshot, but a part of me wants to write Sawyer’s second heat. And then the build-up to the third where they get desperate looking around for condoms/suppressants. That or they have to start resigning themselves to parenthood. Hmm. I could probably get another three chapters actually. But if I don’t get around to it, there’s always this.
> 
> I would be really appreciative of any reviews if you liked it. Might inspire me to write more too. :)


	2. Season Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 covers Season 1. So I guess this one will cover Season 2. It’ll probably be a little more disjointed than the first chapter, skipping to certain parts. Because while it does cover Sawyer’s second heat, I’m also dropping in plot relevant snippets as it goes, converting the universe, as it were.
> 
> Most everything keeps to canon since Jack and Sawyer sort of do their best to pretend the arrangement doesn’t exist unless they have to talk about or act on it. So it’s basically just everything going as scheduled with the occasional day of filthy sex thrown in. lol

If Jack imagined ever seeing Sawyer again, the picture he created was not the one he received. Shot, unconscious, hanging off the shoulder of a stranger, he could never have predicted that.

They carried him to the Hatch. Jack put him in the shower under a spray of cold water for the fever. He stripped Sawyer, cut away his shirt that was sticky with dried blood and infection.

“If you were awake,” Jack spoke kindly, tugging off his boots, “you would be hating this.”

Sawyer was so strong, so independent, but one bullet had razed him low. He was vulnerable, small. Jack felt a deep swell in his stomach to protect the man, to save him. He told himself it was doctoral concern, but he knew the line blurred with personal attachment. Maybe it was that primal instinct, the need of an alpha to protect the omega that had been his for a day. It did not affect the end result, however, so Jack decided motive was not important.

They laid Sawyer in the bed, him and Kate. Jack wrapped his shoulder and they gave him medicine, antibiotics to stop the chills, the twitches, the agony.

Kate sat with Sawyer, but Jack had other matters to attend to. He would speak with the man who brought Sawyer in. And he would go out and bring the rest of his people home. But it would come after.

Jack went into the bathroom and searched through Sawyer’s discarded clothing. There was an old letter folded into the back pocket of his jeans but nothing else.

“Damn it,” he sighed.

If the suppressants were lost somewhere in the horrors Sawyer had endured, it was the same result Jack intended. Rescue was a fantasy again. In a week Sawyer would go into heat, and Jack would not let him medicate himself to pointlessly forestall it. The matter was moot, however. The suppressants were gone. Nothing could stop it now.

Jack only wished they had the pills for any unforeseen emergencies ahead.

+

Sawyer did not care for the Hatch, but he was not above reaping the benefits it gave. Unfortunately, it was bare of what he truly sought.

“No,” Jack told him. “I’ve searched the place over. No suppressants, no condoms, nothing.”

“How can there be nothing?” Sawyer demanded. “This place not employ any omegas? Not very ‘equal opportunity’ of them.”

Jack did not point out how disadvantageous an omega would be holed up underground, thriving only when on suppressants. Instead he said, “I don’t know, man. Best I can figure is maybe the people before us used them all up. Or maybe it’s because this station was set up for shifts, and people just brought their own for the time they were here.” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Either way it doesn’t change anything. If there’s nothing here, there’s nothing here. For now though, we still have what you took from the plane.” Jack did not want to broach the subject of Sawyer’s divvied up stash, but he did want to put his mind at ease. “When people found all your stuff I took the condoms along with the medicine,” he said. It had been a fight to keep them all, but he invoked his right as leader to hold on to them. Or he sequestered them as a medical supply. He could not remember which, but it worked.

“People shouldn’t’ve been going through my stuff in the first place,” Sawyer spat. On that matter he was still irate.

“We thought you were never coming back,” Jack said in their defense. “But I got the condoms, all right? That’s all we have to worry about for now.”

+

Because life on the island was only ever full of unrest, they had many things to worry about. The first one at the front of the line was Michael stealing some of their guns and going in search of kidnapped Walt.

Jack had an immediate disapproval when Sawyer insisted on going with them to bring Michael back. The man was barely on his third day of consciousness after his brush with death. He was stubborn though, and Jack could only tell him no so many times.

It was concern, not smugness, Jack felt as Sawyer heaved and panted behind Locke and himself. He was tired and in pain, and a hike was too much.

They took breaks as frequently as they could, which was not often. Locke lost Michael’s trail at one point, and while he searched for it, Jack made Sawyer sit down.

They drank from their bottles of water in a silence. It always took Jack time to work up the effort to talk. He never knew what Sawyer would say in some situations, and it was often not worth his breath if all it bought was sarcasm.

“Why did you really come, Sawyer?” Jack took a drink of his water, acting like the question was no big deal when he knew the answer would be. “You’re in no condition to travel.”

“Hell,” Sawyer snorted, “college boy like you can’t work a calendar?”

Jack shook his head. “Your heat should still be a few days off.”

“Yeah maybe,” he muttered. “But I never really... I never had two in a row before. Never been off my meds long enough. What if I’m not exactly mister regular?”

“Okay.” Jack considered that and it made sense. “Right, of course. That’s a good idea actually.”

“Just call me your second shadow,” Sawyer said, “at least so long as you’re plannin’ on jungle excursions of an untold duration. I’m not gonna follow you to the bathroom or anything.”

“But Locke,” Jack glanced over at the man, some thirty paces away, “he’s an alpha too.”

“I know,” Sawyer said. “Same way just about everybody knows I’m a damn omega since I went off suppressants.” He sounded aggressively embarrassed by that. Jack was mostly certain no one had the guts to say something to Sawyer’s face, but the looks, those knowing looks, could cut just as deep.

“If you start up while we’re out here,” Jack said, “I don’t know what we’ll do about him.”

“We will ask him pretty, pretty please to leave.” Sawyer grinned tauntingly, so wide his eyes scrunched up. “Or you could fight for me.”

Jack chuckled. “I thought you didn’t like that kind of behavior.”

“Well, maybe I’m closer to my deadline than I wanna be,” he said. “‘Cause right now it sounds just this side of sexy.”

Jack thought for a moment. “Okay,” he decided. “Okay. Getting Michael back is the top priority for now. But I know you can’t exactly fight this off or push it down, so I guess... the minute— and I mean that minute— you feel something you let me know. We’ll have to send John on by himself. He can track and when he finds Michael, if he’s not alone, we can engage later.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t let Kate come.” Sawyer exhaled with relief. “I was half a second from stoppin’ her myself. Sounds better coming from you though.”

“Good thing, yeah,” Jack said. “She would have questioned why we split up, not understood, followed us anyway.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t need to see you like that.”

“I’ll agree to that,” Sawyer said. “I don’t even want you seein’ me, but that defeats the purpose now, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jack laughed, “a little bit.”

He looked out upon the tall hill they had climbed and the higher ground still that Locke was investigating. They would have to get up soon.

“You know,” Jack said, one last bit of talk before they were done, “there was only one other male omega who survived the crash.”

“Yes, Doc,” Sawyer said, “I, too, read the manifest. Why you think I was sittin’ on the damn thing?” He puffed out his cheeks and sighed. “Fat lot of good it did. Secret’s just about all out now anyway.” He looked at Jack, studying him for a second, then he took another drink of water. “But I guess it’s one less trouble for you to worry over now, ain’t it?”

“Do you think...” Jack looked over at their third party member, still far enough away that he would not hear. “Do you think that’s part of what they were always doing out in the jungle? Do you think Boone and Locke were...?” He could not finish the sentence. He did not have to.

“It certainly does fit the damn profile, what with the way that boy was followin’ Locke around like a hungry dog.” Sawyer huffed a big, breathy sigh. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He’s gone. And there ain’t no reason to go askin’ that question unless you just don’t feel guilty enough with one casualty.”

“He would have told me,” Jack tried to rationalize, to comfort himself. “Right? If he was pregnant he wouldn’t have stopped fighting. He would have let me do... anything that I could.”

“No way to know,” Sawyer told him. Then he nodded his head at Locke. “And unless you mosey over and ask the big kahuna, you never will. So stop tryin’.”

“He would have told me,” Jack lied to himself one last time. “Boone would have told me.”

In the end, they were spared the one worry of an early heat from Sawyer. But they suffered many other defeats instead. They lost any trace of Michael. Their guns were taken from them by the Others. And as it turned out, Kate followed them anyway. So it was especially beneficial that there were no acts for her to witness Jack and Sawyer committing.

They went back home— to the Hatch, to the beach— and they tried not to think about the fact that they were waiting.

+

Sawyer was early, of course. It was only by a day— half a day— but it was enough to cause a handful difficulties.

Jack was taking his shift with the button when it happened. The night was late, the Hatch was quiet, and the first clattering sound he heard went off like an alarm. There were footsteps fast approaching. He feared the worst, some urgent news from the beach that needed his help.

The chair scraped back as he stood, waiting for what was coming.

Sawyer practically fell into the control room, completely out of breath. He must have run the whole way there. “Jack,” he groaned, heaving air, unable to talk. He did not need to. Jack could tell. He could smell it.

“Sit down,” Jack said, quickly dragging the chair over, meeting Sawyer halfway. He dropped into it for a second, exhausted, but when Jack tried to walk away, he followed like they were tethered. “Stay,” Jack ordered. He sat back down.

“It snuck up on me while I was sleepin’,” Sawyer whined. He sounded like he was in pain, like he had given everything to fighting it off. “Missed that little warning tingle in my belly.”

“Okay,” Jack said, trying to think. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I just gotta find someone to take my shift.” He looked at his watch and it read 2:17 in the morning. Whomever he woke would not be happy.

“Kate’s comin’,” Sawyer told him. “Comin’ to take over. She’ll be here soon. I asked her. I didn’t want to ask anyone else. I asked her.”

Jack nodded, glad. That was one less thing to worry about, one item he could check off on an extensive list. He would need to throw together a bag with food, supplies, their blanket. It was a task planned for the morning and thus barely begun. By the looks of it, Sawyer already had his pack ready to go.

Jack stepped away and Sawyer followed. He could not be bothered to continue telling the man to sit, so Sawyer tagged along as he grabbed his backpack and began stocking it.

Sawyer shuffled from foot to foot beside Jack, anxious. And when Jack turned around, Sawyer grabbed him, held onto him like a drowning cat. He made no advances, no moves towards sex. He just held Jack, resting his head on his shoulder.

“She wouldn’t agree until I told her why. Thought we were excluding her from somethin’ again.” Sawyer whimpered and burrowed further against Jack’s neck, sniffing him. “She didn’t know,” he said, a distraught and loathing whisper. “One of the only people left on this damn rock that didn’t know and now she does.”

“It’s okay, man,” Jack promised him. “It’s Kate. She won’t care.”

Sawyer nodded, knowing or hoping it was true. He let go and paced in a tight circle while Jack finished. His eyes flickered all around, overstimulating himself.

“God, that bed looks good,” he moaned, setting his gaze on the set of them, “comfy. Let’s do it in the bed.”

“No,” Jack said, and when Sawyer started wandering towards the bedroom anyway he had to repeat himself louder. “Sawyer no! This is a high traffic area. People will walk in on us. They’ll smell it, smell you.”

“You don’t wanna share me?” Sawyer asked, and he sounded so flattered by that, touched and owned in the way his mind currently told him he wanted. “That’s so sweet.” He grabbed Jack and kissed down his face and neck, heated and rushed. “I need you now, right now.”

“You’ll have to wait.” Jack pushed Sawyer away after prying himself loose. He threw a few more protein bars in his bag. “We’re gonna go to the caves, all right?” Sawyer nodded, but Jack was unsure if he even heard. “It’s deserted and it has water, room, shelter.” He zipped up his backpack. “All we have to do is get there.”

Sawyer took a step for the door and his leg gave out. He fell to the floor. “Then I guess we best hurry.” He laughed like he was high, all silly and finding the nonexistent humor in a serious situation. “I got damn jelly legs just tryin’ to stand up.”

Jack pulled him to his feet and kept a firm hold on his hand. He would not let go. If that was what it took, he would drag Sawyer through the jungle and help him if he fell.

They started down the long hall. Kate was waiting at the end and holding the door open. She gave Jack a look, and it was too many emotions to process in the slim second he passed her by. Embarrassment, helplessness, fear, gratitude. Jack did what he had to for Sawyer, but it was good to know she understood.

The trip to the caves was inconsistent. They either ran together or Jack had to drag Sawyer behind him as he dawdled, claiming they were far enough away. Multiple times Sawyer tried to jump him and start things right where they were. Jack pushed him off every time. He urged him to wait, but it got harder to say no as they went. There were many smells in the jungle, but none so strong as Sawyer.

They were less than a hundred yards away when Sawyer gave up. He tripped over his own legs and refused to stand when he fell.

“Just do it, Jack,” he begged. He spread his legs and rubbed a hand over his crotch, but Jack doubted if he could feel much through those tightly pulled jeans. “Right here, right now, man. We’re close enough. Close enough. I need it.”

“We’re almost there,” Jack said, coaching him through the last stretch. “Come on, Sawyer.” He would not move. “Come on!”

Sawyer stayed right where he was. “The stars at night,” he yelled, singing off-key, “are big and bright! Whoo!” He laughed. “Let’s do it right here under the stars, darlin’. Downright romantic.”

“We’re not under the stars,” Jack stated, looking around. “We’re under a canopy of trees. You can’t even see the sky.” Sawyer began unzipping his pants, but Jack stopped him. “No, no, no. Not when we’re this close, no.” He groaned and then, with no better option, he bent down and grabbed Sawyer’s arm.

“What’re you doin’?” he demanded, outraged as Jack pulled him up and dug a shoulder into his stomach.

“What does it look like?” Jack said. “I’m carrying you, you son of a bitch.” He heaved one good time and managed to get Sawyer up over his shoulder. He swayed with the heavy weight and almost fell, but somehow he managed.

“This is so hot,” Sawyer said, “all this manhandling. I may never walk anywhere again.”

“Something tells me you’ll change your tune come tomorrow,” Jack chuckled. He staggered at first, but then he got a good pace going, a good balance.

Sawyer cheered for them when Jack cleared the entrance to the caves. “Whoo!” he shouted. Then just as loudly he hollered, “Now fuck me.”

Jack dropped him like the heavy dead weight he was. “You are so uncouth,” he said. Then he doubled over, resting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath.

“Uncouth?” Sawyer laughed. “You honestly think a heat in the middle of the goddamn jungle is a place for class?”

“No,” Jack said. “Now take your pants off.” He still felt that he needed a good five minutes between exercises, but he also really liked the full body shiver Sawyer got when he told him what to do.

“God, now we’re talkin’,” Sawyer said. He wasted no time kicking off his boots and dragging down his pants.

Jack looked through his bag and pulled out the blanket from their last time. It was freshly laundered by the washing machine in the Hatch and held no condemning memories of the past.

Pillows, seats, and all other manner of soft cushions had been moved back to the beach with everyone else. Jack laid the blanket out against the dirt floor. It was hard and they would no doubt be sore after, but it was better than the rocks.

“On the blanket,” Jack said, watching as Sawyer nearly got lost in his own shirt. He was too excited. Jack took his own shirt off with far more control.

Sawyer crawled over the slightly softer surface and fell onto his back. “No doggy style tonight,” he said. “Still got a goddamn hole in my shoulder. Can’t hold myself up.”

“That’s okay,” Jack said. “That’s all right.” It was not ideal. They would be facing each other the entire time. And where before it had felt so natural and intimate, Jack remembered it later as awkward. But even if Sawyer thought he could support himself on that arm, Jack would not want him to. He was doctor, after all. He knew Sawyer’s limitations better than he did.

So they would face each other throughout. And there would be no choice in it.

Jack undid his belt in a frenzy. His fingers were twitching and that only made it harder. He began toeing his shoes off and dropped his pants the second he could. He kicked them both away and got down on his knees before Sawyer’s sprawled form.

He already started without him.

He was completely bare of clothes, and his back was bent so slightly off the blanket so he could reach his cock better. Jack would never tire of that sight, of watching Sawyer’s desperate futility.

“Put it in me!” he begged. “I can’t wait, I can’t wait.” He jerked a frenzied hand up and down, trying to steal some semblance of relief they both knew would not come. “I need you so bad, damn it.” His eyes were shut tight, but Jack could see tears leaking out. He was so frustrated and wanting, to painful depths.

“I know, James,” he said, trying to rationalize with him, “I know. But not yet, okay? Not yet.” He put those shaking hands of his against the man’s body, groping the tight muscles of his thighs. Sawyer’s skin was hot to the touch. His whole body had broken out in a sweat. “I know you need it, but I still... I have to stretch you, all right? It’s been a month and if we don’t you could tear, get an infection. Do you understand me?“

Sawyer dropped his head on the blanket and shook it back and forth. “Stow the bedside manner, Doc,” he said, his voice so tired. “I remembered what a goddamned tease you were last time. I been... practicin’ the past few days.”

Jack made an obscene noise, a pitiful, aborted growl, at the lewd image of Sawyer playing with himself. “God, you should have let me watch,” he said.

“Maybe next time,” Sawyer said, laughing despite himself, his situation. “Right now I just... I need you. Please, Jack. I feel like I’m goin’ crazy here, or dying one.”

How could Jack deny him?

Sawyer was still in an agreeable enough mindset that he did not stop Jack when he went searching for the condoms. All he did was urge him to find one quicker. Jack rolled it on, going over his slowly awakening knot. It knew what it wanted, needed. It knew what was there for the taking.

Jack grabbed Sawyer’s calves below his bent knee and pulled him across the blanket rather than moving himself closer. Sawyer liked being handled like that.

“Give it to me,” he pleaded. The one hand was still on his cock, but the other reached further down, pulling his ass apart so Jack could see him, be ensnared by the sight of him. “All at once,” he whined. “No build-up. Just fuck me and knot me right now. Right now, damn it.”

“Knot’s not big enough,” Jack told him. He pulled Sawyer’s hand away and used his own, spreading him open. It was wet all over, smeared from walking too long past when he should have. Jack used his other hand to grab himself and guide it to that wanting hole. “You gonna make my knot bigger, James?” he asked. “You gonna be a good omega and make me want it?”

“Mmm, god yes, yes,” he moaned. Then he cut himself off with a yelp when Jack finally pushed inside.

Whatever work Sawyer had done with himself, it almost felt insufficient. He was still so very, very tight. Jack might have feared the effects of forcing himself in anyway if the path were not so slick. Sawyer could take it.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, falling down over Sawyer and speaking it right in his face. “You’re so tight, James. What’s the matter, did you feel embarrassed doing it yourself? Or did you stop going any further because you wanted my cock to do it for you?”

Sawyer raised up and kissed him instead of answering the question.

He no longer tasted like cigarettes, and Jack knew without doubt that he must have finally smoked the last one. Jack kissed him back passionately and hurriedly as if the world were ending. He grabbed a handful of long blond hair and held Sawyer in place as he moved his mouth and hips against him. The wet smacking of the one almost disappeared against the loud slap of the other. Both seemed to echo in the cave.

Time could not be properly counted, but it almost felt too soon when Jack’s knot was ready. Perhaps they were both spurred on from the frantic mess they had found themselves in that early morning.

Jack warned him it was coming, and Sawyer wrapped his arms across his back, holding on, bracing himself as Jack began pushing it inside.

“You’re doing good,” Jack encouraged him. “You’re doing so good, baby.” The endearment felt odd as soon as it left his mouth. It must have been some broken remnant of past relationships, forced out as his mind equated this sex to that of a voluntary intimacy. “You’re okay.”

Sawyer grunted at the widest part and held on tighter, clawing at his back. Jack forced it and the rest through. Sawyer let go and collapsed onto the blanket. Jack raised himself back up to finish, being considerate. He barely touched Sawyer and the man came, needing relief too greatly for his body to deny it for long.

“Oh, thank you,” Sawyer panted. “Thank you.”

Jack felt his own cock twitching inside of that tight heat, expending what it needed to slake his lust. He dropped down beside Sawyer, pulling the man on his side, on his good shoulder. They caught their breath while staring each other in the eye. And they were completely silent as they did so.

It was Sawyer who spoke first, several minutes later and only after his heart rate had slowed down enough to allow it. “I been thinkin’ about this for a month,” he said with a smirk.

“Me knotting you?” Jack asked arrogantly.

“No,” he said, then he shook his head. “Well, yeah. Been waitin’ for you to use me like this again. I didn’t walk right for almost three days last time, and I thought about you every one of ‘em.”

Jack released a lustful groan to hear that, to see into Sawyer’s mind and know what he would never share if he had the sense to stop himself. “Will you do it this time too?” Jack asked. “Will you think about us doing this and wish you had it all the time?”

“Probably,” he laughed, and that was another unethically obtained secret Jack would take with him. “But no,” he patted Jack’s chest as he tried to think, remembering what he had been about to say. “No, I was talkin’ about this. I been thinkin’ about this for the past month.”

“Us?” Jack asked, confused.

“Mmm,” Sawyer hummed, an obscure answer. “Us makin’ a baby.”

“Damn it,” Jack swore under his breath. “Don’t you do this to me again, Sawyer. Do not do this to me again.”

“Call me James,” he asked.

“I have wanted to discuss this with you, James,” he said. “But you don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

“Nope,” Sawyer replied, and he broke off into a hissing laugh, as if tormenting the only willpower between them were a joke. “But I want a baby, Jack. I want your baby. You’d be such a good daddy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack said, and he wished he could walk away— at least look away— but they were stuck there, facing each other. “I’d be a horrible father.”

“No,” Sawyer protested. “No, such a good daddy. You should just do it next time. Go in bareback. I want you to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, not out loud,” he huffed. “That’s why you can’t give me no choice.”

“As great as that sounds,” Jack stated, “I don’t want you to kill me when this passes. So I’m going to do what you really want, what you have asked me to do.”

“All right, fine,” Sawyer gave in, surprisingly agreeable in that moment. “I can wait a month. That’s just fine.”

It was a lie.

He went on to beg Jack endlessly that he should abandon the oppressive condoms he pulled out one after the other. Thankfully the arguments never turned combative like before, but there was certainly enough complaining.

Sawyer attacked Jack’s pride as an alpha, attempting a sloppy, distracted form of reverse psychology and accusing Jack of being afraid he could not get him pregnant if he wanted to. Obviously it did not work. But seeing Sawyer through his heat was almost not worth the trouble— almost.

It was still an experience akin to something transcendental, never ending in that surreal opportunity to lose himself, to watch Sawyer let go as well. It felt so freeing to lay down social conventions, to say horrible things, filthy things or tender, sweet thing in contrast, flattering words Sawyer would hit him for on any other day. There were times Jack never wanted it to end.

But it did end.

Perhaps it was the early start that snuck its way into their plan, but Sawyer’s heat broke two hours before sunset, not long at all.

The last minutes were horrible and awkward. Sawyer was completely in his right mind and they both knew it, however there was nothing they could do but lay there, knotted together and trying not to look at each other.

“I know you don’t mean it,” Jack said, assuming Sawyer was embarrassed for making a baby crazed fool out of himself again. “I know you don’t really—”

“You done?” Sawyer interrupted. He tried pulling his hips away from Jack’s, tugging on the knot inside of him, smaller now than it had been. “Am I free?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Jack pushed Sawyer onto his back and pulled out of him slowly, trying to minimize any undue pain.

He thought Sawyer would immediately stand and walk away, but he continued to lay there, still exhausted. Jack dropped down beside him and watched an orange sun cut through cracks in the red rock above.

“How many was that?” Sawyer asked, a vague question with dreadful expectation. “How many condoms we got left?”

“Sawyer—”

“How many?!” he shouted. It echoed, bouncing off stone walls.

Jack closed his eyes. “Two,” he said. “We have two left.”

Sawyer chuckled once, a huff, a hopeless sound. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t!” he snapped angrily. He raised a closed fist and struck it down against the thin blanket and packed earth. “Just don’t.”

“We can—”

“We can’t nothin’,” Sawyer said, cutting him off— which was good because Jack had no idea what he might have said. They had exhausted nearly every option. “I’m screwed. That’s it, end of goddamn story. So just... don’t.” He sat up and rested his arms over his knees. “I don’t need no empty promises about how you’re gonna save me like some damn hero. So just shut up, all right? I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jack should have pushed the matter. He was hardly an expert at reading the man, and maybe he really did want to talk about it, to receive a comfort, a promise, no matter how empty. Jack said nothing and stood up. “We should...” He pointed to the exit, to the path they had taken and would take. “We should head back, before it gets dark.”

“Whatever.” Sawyer shook his head listlessly and he took his time about it, but he stood as instructed.

They washed in the cold flowing water of the caves. As before, Sawyer scrubbed with the vigor of a Catholic trying to rid himself of sin. It helped for most of it, but there were some scents that needed a better method, hot water or a shower at least.

They were getting dressed when Jack caught a whiff of what could not be denied, as if their cleansing wash had never happened. He stopped Sawyer from stepping into his boxers.

“You were wearing your clothes for too long,” Jack told him, letting Sawyer know that, “the smell, it’s in your clothes. Go wash them in the water.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sawyer argued. He was back to his normal self, if not overcompensating.

“Fine,” Jack shrugged, pretending he did not care. “Walk through camp like that. I think everyone would love to smell what you’ve been up to. The alphas would anyway. No one else would be able to tell probably, but... you know how gossip goes.”

“Shut up,” Sawyer muttered. He did not put his clothes on though. Instead he balled up his underwear and threw them at the dripping pool of water, ringing it perfectly. “I don’t suppose you have a jug of Gain on you? How ‘bout that one with the little snuggly bear?”

“It’s just called Snuggle,” Jack said. “But I think that’s fabric softener, not detergent.”

“Whatever,” Sawyer said. “Unless you have some, it doesn’t matter that you’re correcting me.”

“You can stop and do a load at the Hatch,” Jack said. “Just get everything passable for now, enough so someone can’t smell you from thirty yards away.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sawyer grabbed the rest of his clothes to wash, walking around bare and unashamed still. There was the slightest of limps to his step, and Jack was between feeling smug and sympathetic. But mostly he recalled Sawyer’s words of how he had thought of Jack the entire time he recovered from their last session. Was he thinking of him now, Jack wondered, of how good it had felt?

Sawyer tossed his shirt and pants into the water and pushed them down. “I’m bringin’ a change of clothes next time.” Then he stopped, in speech and in movement, at the dreadful reminder of their next time.

“Yeah, next time,” Jack said. “Good idea.”

Sawyer dunked his clothes over and over. He wrung them out and smelled them, then tossed them back in with a sigh.

Jack watched him go at it for a few minutes, but then he decided to leave. Sawyer did not like that idea.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, turning around with a pair of dark and dripping jeans in his hand. “Where you goin’?”

“Well,” Jack thought, “we’re done, right? You don’t really need me here for laundry. Plus, I was thinking, I dunno, you’d sort of prefer it if we showed back up at different times. Less suspicious that way.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer agreed. “Yeah, less suspicious.” He tossed his pants back in the water. “Yeah, you should head on. I’ll follow once these are dry enough.”

Jack stood at the mouth of the caves, indecisive. “You can just say it,” he told Sawyer. He gave a nod, a small tilt of his head that promised no judgment. “If you want me to stay you can say so.”

“I don’t care what you do.”

“You’re an omega,” Jack stated, as if either of them ever needed to be reminded, “fresh out of heat. Mentally you think that doesn’t matter in regards to anything. Biologically, however, you’re very aware of the fact that you are naked. And you’re feeling vulnerable because of it, just for a little while. If that’s true,” Jack kindly said, “you can say so. And I’ll stay.”

Sawyer’s back was to him. He did not move and took a long time to even speak. “Nah,” he finally said. “You do you, Doc. I’m fine here. Always thought myself a bit of an exhibitionist, if I’m bein’ honest. Don’t bother me none.”

“Of course,” Jack said, knowing that he was lying.

He was almost outside the caves when a shout called him back. “Wait!” it said. “Hold up just a minute.” Jack obeyed while Sawyer ran up to him. He held up his underwear, wrung mostly dry. “Doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “You just got a better nose, bein’ mister alpha and all that. So... do I pass the muster?”

Jack sniffed. He leaned nearer to the proffered boxers and sniffed again. “I think you’re good,” he said, “good enough to make it to the Hatch. I’ll bring you a change of clothes from the beach if you wanna shower while you do your laundry.” Jack bobbed on his heels, feeling pushy for saying again, “Or I could stay with you. Locke, it might be his shift with the button. I don’t think he’d give you any trouble but... he is an alpha.”

“You know what I think?” Sawyer said, looking smug. It was a delicate mask, and Jack could see through it easily. “I think you’re the one who’s being clingy. You know better than to think you own me, but,” he tilted his head to the side, regarding Jack, “if you need it right now, I’ll let you tag along, for a little while.”

Sawyer dug himself an out, an excuse that spared his pride. Jack would let him have it without a fight if it helped the transition back from his heat. Jack would accept the shame of being clingy. “What can I say?” he chuckled. “You got me. I guess I just need a few more hours to get it out of my system.” He put a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder to turn him around and they were still in that middle zone— not the dawn, but a twilight— where Sawyer let him touch. “So I guess I’d really appreciate it if you let me sit here while your clothes dry. And maybe you could let me walk with you to the Hatch. Let me get you a change of clothes. You know how macho alpha pride goes.” He grinned. “I think I have to look after you for a little while longer. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor if you just let me do a few things until the haze clears.”

“Your time,” Sawyer said casually. “You wanna waste it, be my guest.”

“Thank you, Sawyer.”

There was no clothesline, of course, so Sawyer laid his clothes out on a hot rock in the path of a sunbeam. Jack would not let him have the blanket back, so he sat on the ground— but only after several minutes of stubborn pacing.

“You know,” Jack said, needing something to break up the quiet between them, “there are other steps you could have taken— can take in the future. They have surgeries that remove... everything. No children, no heats.”

“Oh, thank you, Doctor Shephard,” Sawyer replied, and Jack regretted opening his mouth only to be hit with that heavy sarcasm. “I had no idea such extreme options were available to someone in my condition. Please,” he drawled, attacking Jack to the point of insult, “tell me more.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.” Jack waved him off. “I was just mentioning it in case you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sawyer muttered none too fondly.

“Then why didn’t you...” Jack swallowed. He was curious despite knowing full well that he should leave it alone. “Why didn’t you?“  
  
Sawyer sighed every flutter of air from his lungs. “Dear Mister Ford,” he began, reading the letter on the backs of his eyelids, “we regret to inform that you are not an ideal candidate for surgery at this time. Please keep us in mind if you should decide on another consult in the future. Thank you for choosing our unhelpful sack of shit hospital.”

“You didn’t go back,” Jack said. “I’m assuming you... that you didn’t go back.”

“No, I did not go back,” Sawyer told him. “Not worth the trouble.”

“But you sound so insistent about—”

“It’s not worth the trouble,” Sawyer interrupted with frustration, “because they wean you off suppressants for a week before the consult. So they can run tests. You wanna know when I talked to the doctors too, Jack? You wanna know that? ‘Cause it was about eleven years ago.”

Jack understood then. “Your... second heat,” he presumed.

“My second heat,” Sawyer confirmed. “I went back on my meds right after I got the news, but it was too little, too late.”

“And the guy?” Jack asked after a moment. “The alpha, who was it?”

“What does it matter?” Sawyer scoffed.

“I want to know,” Jack insisted. He felt his breaths deepen and the hairs on his neck bristle. He was jealous, inexplicably jealous when he had no right nor means to challenge the occurrence.

“Well, not that it’s any of your business, given that it _was_ eleven years ago,” Sawyer said, “but he was just some asshole I was runnin’ small cons with at the time. We split after that though ‘cause he stopped taking me seriously. Damn alpha superiority complex,” he muttered.

“I’ve never looked at you as less,” Jack said. “Before, during, after, I’ve never considered you to be inferior because of how you were born.”

“I know, Jack,” he said, and there might have been a silent thanks in there. “I know.”

“What about the first guy?” Jack asked, holding onto the atmosphere while Sawyer was chatty. “When you were a kid. Did he treat you okay?”

Sawyer studied the ground with unfocussed eyes as he shook his head. “Let’s just say... I dropped outta the ninth grade and there was a reason why,” he murmured. “Kids can be real mouthy bastards.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, feeling horribly sympathetic. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Well,” Sawyer huffed, raising his head and winning back some of his confidence, “taught me early on not to trust no damn alphas, didn’t it?” He chuckled. “But ain’t you just the exception to every rule.”

Jack said nothing, knowing that it cost Sawyer far too much strength and pride to pay a compliment. The last thing he needed to do was comment on it.

“We’ll have to talk about it,” Jack thought out loud. “Before next month, we... we’ll need to talk about it. There’s nothing we can... nothing we can do to change it, but I think maybe we can get to a better place if we discuss it together, if we’re on the same page.” Sawyer said nothing. Jack did not expect him to. “Not now, of course. I mean, we did just finish having...” How awkward he always felt to address the subject of sex after they had it. He left the sentence hanging. “I’m sure you need some time to think about it on your own. And, hey, me too. So we’ll meet back up sometime between now and then. We’ll discuss it.”

And Sawyer said nothing.

Jack walked him to the Hatch. He could tell how deep Sawyer’s embarrassment ran when he did not make the obvious joke about Jack carrying his books as well while he walked him to his door.

Locke was not on duty. Instead it was one of the many betas from the beach, taking advantage of the amenities for the small price of pushing a button. He thought Jack was there to relieve him and he would, but first he needed to grab Sawyer a change of clothes from the beach.

It was getting dark, but Kate still caught him the moment he walked up. She was wrecked with curiosity. He doubted she recovered any of that lost sleep. And yet she would not ask what she needed to know. How could she phrase such a question?

“He’s fine,” Jack told her. “He’s okay. He’s just... He’s showering up at the Hatch.”

“Good.” She nodded her head idly, processing that simple information.

“Kate,” Jack called, winning back her attention. They were alone, no one around for several yards, yet still he lowered his voice. “Don’t talk to him about it. I know,” he smiled a tired smile, “I know you’ll want to let him know it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care, but he doesn’t like talking about it. I’m sure you can understand that.”

She chuckled and combed a hand through her messy hair to distract herself. “Yeah, I guess he wouldn’t, would he?“

“He knows you don’t care,” Jack told her, comforted her, “but that doesn’t mean he likes discussing it either. It’s best to just,” he sighed, “leave it alone. If he wants to talk about it, he’ll bring it up.”

“He’s not gonna wanna talk about it,” Kate insisted. “He’s not gonna bring it up.” They both knew that. It would have been the healthy thing to do, but for Sawyer the price was too steep.

“No,” Jack said, knowing it was also true between Sawyer and himself, even with their unforgettable countdown until the next time. “No, he’s not.”

If the man at the Hatch guessed what they had been up to, he was considerate enough to practice discretion. Or perhaps Sawyer threatened him while Jack was out.

Sawyer was already in the shower, scrubbing so hard Jack could hear it over the spray of water. He would erase every trace.

Jack laid his clean clothes out on the sink and took the dirty ones Sawyer had left on the floor, no doubt intending to wash them himself. Jack did it for him, having an hour’s time before that one task of pushing the button.

It felt good to care for him, though Jack had mostly spun that cover for Sawyer’s sake. He did want to look after him though, and that alone told Jack that his mind had not yet cleared.

Sawyer did not need him. Except for one day one time a month, he was very self-reliant.

Jack was resting on the sofa when Sawyer came out of the bathroom, wearing his clean clothes.

“They’re already in the washing machine,” Jack informed, predicting that he might have said something about his other, soiled outfit.

“You didn’t have to do that.” On anyone else, the sentence might have sounded grateful, an obligation to insist someone not work on their behalf. From Sawyer it was only stubbornness.

Jack stood up. “I wanted to,” he said, still playing the part Sawyer needed him to play. He leaned forward, for a kiss, but Sawyer pulled away. “One for the road?”

“Whatever.”

It began simple: closed lips, then open, tongues— a natural, indulgent progression. Jack did not want it to end. His brain still needed it. He knew Sawyer’s did too. They had not lingered in the transition to normalcy long enough.

He walked them backwards, toward the sofa, and that was when Sawyer moved away, denying Jack’s rash decision for more comfort as they made out.

“I don’t like you, Jack,” he said, “not like that. And I’m not even into guys.” It was his old standby, that great excuse, that powerful lie.

“All right,” Jack relented. “Your... your clothes should be done in a few minutes. I can put them in the dryer if you want to—”

“I got a clothesline,” Sawyer said, not wanting to spend anymore time near Jack, in that place where things became blurred and confusing.

Jack put a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. “Let me.” He ushered the man down into a chair and even found him a book to look over while he made him a cup of coffee. Sawyer did not read the book, lacking his glasses, but he held onto it so that he might take it with him.

He accepted the clean clothes, the book, the coffee.

At the time, Jack thought he was performing an act of kindness. It felt almost chivalrous to indulge the lie and feed Sawyer’s need for dependence while never mentioning it. Jack could not know that Sawyer would take the coddling treatment so negatively, or that he would remember it later as a powerful insult.

+

“How could you do that?” Jack yelled, angered and betrayed. He had followed Sawyer far enough from camp that he need not worry over how loudly he spoke. He abused that privilege. “After everything I do to help you, and you make me look like a fool in front of everyone.”

Every gun they had, all of the medicine, even the statues of cocaine, they were gone. Sawyer had stolen them from the Hatch then raised himself as some powerful figure in a grand speech. And he did it all by playing Jack against Locke and vice versa, taking advantage of how two alphas would war against one another when convinced only he was right.

“Nothin’ personal,” Sawyer said. “But you did start it. Took my stuff from my tent.”

Jack laughed, a harsh, berating sound. “That’s a lie. Nothing personal? Nothing personal, Sawyer? You’re upset, fine. You hate that I have to see you like that, that I see you desperate and vulnerable. But this is not the way to go about putting yourself back on top, and this is not how you _thank_ someone who does you a favor!”

“Don’t act so saintly, Jack,” he sneered. “Like you hate it, like you don’t have yourself a good ol’ time.”

“You think this is going to help?” Jack asked. “Making me hate you, what’ll that accomplish? Do you honestly believe it will make things easier when I get you pregnant?”

“Shut up.”

“When you come back to me in a month,” Jack went on defiantly, saying what he needed to say, “when you’re in heat again and we fuck again, will it make everything easier if we hate each other?”

“I said shut up,” Sawyer told him again, louder, a warning, a promise.

“Will it make things easier,” Jack shouted, “when we start a family if you’re convinced we hate each other and that you didn’t want it?!”

“Shut up!”

Sawyer hit him with a hard, tight fist that would leave his knuckles red. Jack felt the free flowing thickness of blood in his mouth. He spat it out.

“You can hit me all you want,” Jack said, backing down to a normal tone of voice, calm. He did not need to be loud. He felt mighty in saying what could not be denied. “You can hit me all you want and it won’t change a damn thing. Because unless a miracle falls from the sky, unless I tie you up miles from camp and forget about you, we both know what’s going to happen.” Jack spat again, that sticky blood. It caught on his lip and stained it like it colored his teeth. “I suggest you use the next month to make your peace with it.” He walked away.

“I don’t want your baby!” Sawyer yelled after him.

“Tough,” Jack said over his shoulder. He stopped where he stood. His feet crunched against dirt, bent grass, and small rocks. “Because as things stand in the camp right now, I don’t think you’re going to find anyone else who wants you to have theirs either. But please,” he laughed, he laughed at Sawyer, “ask around. Go ahead. Because you’re going to need someone in a month, and I’m just one option. I’m just one damn option who was doing you a favor.”

He did not necessarily need Sawyer’s gratitude. All Jack wanted was for the man to acknowledge that he did not have to help him. He simply did.

+

It felt like a small eternity before Michael returned, for all that it had only been a week-and-a-half. So much had happened in between, as it always did on the island.

And to prove that statement absolute, the Other, their prisoner, the man who was not Henry Gale, escaped. They buried Libby and Ana Lucia, the collateral damage of his rushed egress.

At the funeral there was a sailboat that climbed over the horizon. Jack ran down the beach and began swimming towards it, as did Sawyer and Sayid.

It was nice to have Desmond back, though he had no answers for their many questions. The scale was always shifted in that direction. Jack found the island terribly unbalanced.

Yet all of those developments did not stop the mission. Michael brought them the location of the Others’ camp. He asked for help in leading an expedition to combat them and save his son. It was a small party— per his insistence— only himself, Jack, Sawyer, Kate, and Hurley. They left that same day.

They brought many of their guns in preparation of a firefight. But between the beach and that impending battle there was much walking, their most consuming activity. It was a two day journey, as Michael said.

At dusk they broke camp.

Sawyer walked away, off to collect firewood. Jack followed.

He picked up a few branches, pursuing a trail of them in such a way that it looked like coincidence when he synced up with Sawyer’s path.

“Thought I’d help,” he said.

“I got it,” Sawyer told him, “but knock yourself out if you want.”

With that obligatory normality out of the way, Jack wasted no more time before addressing his actual intent. “Ten days down,” he said conversationally. “Three weeks left— less than, really. You about ready to have that talk yet?”

“Nope,” Sawyer answered simply. He bent down and grabbed a sturdy limb to throw atop his pile.

“You can’t put it off forever,” Jack said. “I’ll feel a whole lot better when it does happen if we’ve discussed it first.”

“I don’t give a damn about your conscience,” Sawyer scoffed, “not right now. There’s still plenty of time left, and I’d like to spend it in denial, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, and, hey, having sex with Ana Lucia,” Jack said, straining nonchalance, “that probably helped take the edge off, right?”

“Don’t be petty,” Sawyer told him. He did not look pleased with Jack’s possessive attitude. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Is that in any way similar to you knowing you didn’t have to tell me about it?” Jack replied. “Why did you?”

“Felt like sharin’,” Sawyer shrugged. “Thought we were pals, Doc.”

“You wanted to let me know you’re straight,” Jack explained on his own. “You take joy in letting me know this doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well,” Sawyer said, “it doesn’t.”

“It’s going to happen,” Jack stated, “and it _will_ mean something because we won’t be able to forget about it the next day.” He snickered and it was an irate sound at the end of its rope, lashing out as it withered in life. “We spend... so much damn time worrying about how it is _you_ feel. Have you ever taken _one minute_ to consider what this is like for me? Because I’m in this too. I am having a- a child, with you of all people, because you need my help.”

“I’ll make sure you get a medal,” Sawyer taunted.

“I’m not ready for this,” he admitted. “It’s- it’s insane. It is literal insanity. Do you even care?” Jack shook his head. “No, you don’t. No, no, of course you don’t care. Of course... not.”

Sawyer took a deep breath in and blew it out his nose. They gave up all pretense of collecting wood. They stood there unmoving. Jack waited for the word that would make one of them storm off, as always.

“I’m not any more ready for this than you are,” he said. “Do you get that, Sawyer? Do you get... that?” His shoulders fell low. The firewood grew heavy. He was running out of steam. “I don’t want this any more than you. I wish we had other options, but we don’t, okay? We just don’t. There are none. We’re out. We’re just... we’re out.”

And Jack was out of words as well. He said all he had and they lacked any eloquence. It was all emotion that still somehow failed to say what he was feeling.

Sawyer, of course, contributed nothing. He was content to stand there and let Jack talk at him all night with only the barest of input. He did not want to discuss it, as he said over and over. Jack was just so tired of having it put off. He needed to talk about it, and he wanted to talk about it now. But Sawyer stood there, saying nothing, sticking to his stance on silence.

Jack waited there for so long, too long. And Sawyer made a point of not speaking until he finally tried to leave.

“Thank you, Jack,” he said, quiet and contained, a level statement with no emotion. “You’re in the same boat I am when you could jump overboard any second you damn well please.” He looked Jack in the eye, serious and imploring. “So why don’t you?” he asked. He was hopelessly, pitifully confused. “Why do you keep helpin’ me? Why are you gonna contribute to makin’ some brat don’t neither of us want?”

Jack had no good answer. He did not know. It was simply an unconventional obligation that he never challenged. He only fretted over the idea of it because he was so unsure of himself, of that frightening burden of ‘father’, but he never questioned whether or not he would do it when the time came.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

“Bullshit,” Sawyer spat.

“I don’t,” Jack insisted, completely sincere. “I just... I don’t know.” He readjusted his firewood, feeling the collected earth and the splintered wood of it digging into his arm. “But it’s something I have to do. So I will. Because you need someone and because,” how Sawyer would hate him for saying, “I don’t want it to be anyone else. It’s me, only me. Not John, or Sayid, or whoever. I will do it.”

Sawyer chuckled. “I feel like I should stop you before you get to the declarations of love.”

“I don’t love you, Sawyer.” And truly he did not. “But if you really are stuck having someone’s baby, it’s going to be mine.” Jack’s eyes felt dry like he was staring, boring a hole into Sawyer with manic, unwavering eye contact. He blinked, but it did little to help the intensity of his gaze.

“I think you need to take a walk,” Sawyer told him. He leaned forward and took Jack’s pile of wood to add to his own. “Go on,” he ordered. “Clear that damn alpha nonsense outta your head with some fresh air.”

“You’re not having anyone else’s child,” Jack repeated, refusing to back down.

“Damn it, Jack!” Sawyer threw down his armful of wood, uncaring if it broke apart or rolled away. “I don’t want _anybody’s_ baby. When are you gonna get that?”

“When are you gonna get the fact that you have to?” Jack argued in reply. “The clock’s ticking.”

“Don’t you lecture me on how much time I have left,” Sawyer growled. “Think I don’t wake up every morning knowin’ there’s another day gone?” He moved closer, putting himself mere inches away. He glared at Jack. “You think I haven’t been window shoppin’ for a baby daddy and come up with no one better than you? I know it’s you, Jack, and I know exactly how long until it happens. It ain’t something so complex that only you can figure it out.” He dropped his gaze and took a step back. “I know all of this, you bastard. But when I say I don’t want to talk about it... I mean that I do not want to fucking _talk about it_!” he screamed the end, enraged that Jack would not take the hint. Then he squatted down and began picking up his firewood again. “So you take a walk, Doc. Git.”

Jack left him, and he gave Sawyer a good half hour before he circled back around to camp.

It was unnecessary, but come dawn on the second day of their trek, Jack petulantly reminded Sawyer that they were down another day.

Unfortunately, that was their last real chance to discuss it. The Others kept them locked up so far apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick nod to Boone being an omega. Because that just feels right. I think Shannon would be too, which (along with them being rich and not trained in a practical skill) would give a little more power to Boone’s line when he says no one takes them seriously. It also adds another layer to his not wanting Shannon around Sayid, who is an alpha. (And I’m sure she would thus have a habit of falling in with horrible alpha boyfriends.) So, I suppose, that means each mentioned alpha ended up with an omega and vice versa. Nature logic. Bound to happen.
> 
> Everyone else can probably be assumed as beta, unless expressly stated otherwise. I guess because it’s less characters for me to worry about going into heat. But also because after Jack, Locke, and Sayid are removed from the equation, everyone else is pretty chill and non-authoritative. They’re not the take charge type. So I’m using a probability saying maybe 1/10 is alpha and 1/10 is omega. Though I really present a fraction of 1/16 for each. Whoops. Okay, the marshal was alpha. Let’s go with that. And then one or two background female omegas. Sure. 
> 
> Also in case it’s not obvious already, there are no female alphas in my A/B/O verse. I find that weird, personally, and exercise my right to abstain.
> 
> So... there’s some insight if anyone was wondering.


	3. Season Three - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as before. Chapter 3 covers season 3. But since a lot goes on, I thought it best to split it in two. Very long chapter(s). I’ll have the second half up after I spend awhile proofreading.
> 
> Everything so far has been exclusively in Jack’s perspective. But since they are separated in season three, I’m going to switch it up a little from here on out. First part (on Hydra Island) follows Sawyer. Because I don’t think Jack’s side would really change that much in this universe conversion.
> 
> You’d almost think I planned it, but it’s really a happy coincidence that every time Sawyer goes into heat, he and Jack aren’t doing anything canonically significant on that calendar date. What a perfect lunar cycle of filler episodes for them.

Of all the places he could wake up, Sawyer never would have guessed the inside of a cage— an actual, honest to God steel cage. It was large at least, like something from a zoo. But all that gave him was further hatred for those bastards, the Others, treating him like an animal.

There was a boy, a teenager, in another cage across from his. He was not much of a conversationalist, however— not until he took a second to warn Sawyer against shocking the stuffing out of himself. But for some reason that got the boy’s full attention. Then he was helpful as could be, unlocking his own door and then Sawyer’s.

They did not get far.

Sawyer was immediately forced to reacquaint himself with his new friend, the cage. The Others stood on the outside and threw the boy against the bars. They made him apologize for what he had done. Sawyer did not know the kid from Adam, but the treatment sat poorly with him.

They left, one after the other, dragging the boy away, but Sawyer was duty bound to call the attention of the last one at the end of the line. It was the big guy, the trigger happy giant that liked to kidnap kids and shoot people in the shoulder.

“Hey.”

The man held back, grin on his face, no doubt curious what he had to say.

“Listen to me,” Sawyer said through the bars of his cage. “I’m a...” He put his head down against the crusted steel, ashamed. “I’m an omega. You bastards got pills for that sort of thing?” It was unclear where their people sat on the modern amenity scale, but it was worth asking at least.

The man laughed at him, something that might have sounded jolly if its primary focus were not to ridicule. “We know what you are, James.”

Sawyer smiled. “But you’re not gonna help me out, are ya?”

“No.”

“Can’t blame a guy for tryin’,” Sawyer muttered as the man walked away, done with him for the time being.

It was a long shot to have asked. He was not surprised by the result.

Sawyer paced his cage and kept his mind busy with thoughts of escape. He did not let it wander to that other thing, that time sensitive matter Jack was so keen on discussing. He would set that aside and not give it the time of day.

+

The pacemaker was a no good, dirty, rotten con. Making a man believe he could not so much as take a long walk without dying was not the sort of thing Sawyer found amusing. He let the bastard in charge know his exact thoughts on the matter with a hard punch against his glass jaw. Ben spit blood.

He spit blood and then he showed Sawyer the futility of escape, how it would be one small cell exchanged for the larger prison, how they were far off on another island entirely. And when he had driven that point home, when he made Sawyer feel a fool stripped of his ego, Ben said, “Come on. Let’s get you back to your cage.”

Sawyer stared after him and for a moment did not move. “If y’all wanted me to play nice so bad, why didn’t you just keep me on a leash with suppressants?” he asked, honestly surprised the idea did not occur to them. He was to the brink of desperation, straddling that line where he forsook pride.

“Because,” Ben told him, “that would be bargaining, James, and I hardly think you’re in a position where you get to benefit.” He began to walk away, back down the hill, but then a thought occurred to him, as though he had forgotten it. “Oh, and of course you’re much more useful to us if you’re pregnant.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sawyer spat, disgusted by whatever he was implying without even knowing what it was.

“Just that,” Ben answered plainly. “And I’d say you’re not pregnant yet. Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me for the suppressants. But in the interest of removing doubt, your blood work confirmed as much.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’m curious how it is you’ve lasted this long, especially since your results showed no signs of elevated hormones from medication either.”

“None of your damn business.”

“If you have an alpha back on the beach,” Ben offered, “I’d be happy to pick him up for you.”

“So you can get your rocks off seein’ me get pregnant?” Sawyer scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“An omega pregnancy could offer a number of variables and provide insight into a matter of great importance for us, James.” He smiled and it was warm, comforting, imploring. “Why do you think we brought you here? You are the last male omega left in your camp, which provides more variables still.”

“I know that,” Sawyer said. “And I don’t give a damn about whatever problems you all got goin’ on. It don’t mean nothin’ to me. So I ain’t helping you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Ben told him. “Like I said, your pregnancy could help us tremendously. In return for that service, I would gladly offer you your freedom, a way off this island. All you have to do is comply and stay here for the next nine months. I assure you the accommodations would be much nicer for the duration. And afterwards you won’t even have to keep the baby. We’ll find it a good home. What do you say?”

Sawyer took small, calculated steps forward. He looked down into the wide blue eyes of his captor and he said, “I say you can go to Hell. I ain’t doin’ jack for you assholes.”

“Well now,” Ben remarked, “there’s something I could arrange. Jack is an alpha, you know. I only ask that you allow me to use him for something else first.”

“Jack... shit,” Sawyer clarified, knowing full well it had been an intentional misinterpretation. “Now take me back to my cage.”

“How long?” Ben asked. “How long until it hits you?”

There were two weeks left, but Sawyer would sooner have another bamboo session with Sayid than answer the question.

+

It turned out that Sawyer need not worry. Suppressants, alphas, striking a deal, they did not matter. Because the Others were going to kill him. One man was anyway. He had the idea in his head and nothing was going to shake it loose.

It hurt more than it should have to hear Kate take back what she said to the man, his future murder. She declared it in the moment to save Sawyer’s life, and that was very kind of her to do. But she did not love him. He told himself it was her ways, how she was. Nothing would change it. Sawyer could relate to that.

He was probably too distracted to have any business saying it back to her.

So maybe neither of them loved the other. Maybe it just made things easier if he thought about her and forgot about Jack, forgot about that clock counting down with a second hand loud as a freight train and bright as the graffiti painted on its side.

It was brave of Kate to take her “I love you” back first. But Sawyer would hold onto his for a little while longer. He wanted to tell himself that he still had a future out there with a woman; not one where he was the woman, barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen with no walls and a sand floor.

The sex was a really nice sendoff. Being with Ana Lucia and then Kate, it helped Sawyer remember how much he loved women. Which was exactly what he needed, or what he thought he needed. It was a good ending anyway.

It certainly made things easier to take as he kneeled in the rain and the mud with a gun to his head and Kate crying. Maybe it was better to go out like that— like a man, saving Kate— than to go on living, knowing what he had to go back to.

But then Jack, the righteous savior, would not let things go out like that. It almost felt stubborn and vindictive of him, as if he knew what Sawyer was doing and thinking, and he refused to let him take the easy way out. What a son of a bitch.

Sawyer left like Jack told them, to save Kate, to save his own skin. He honored Jack’s choice to stay behind and buy them time.

But what the good doctor failed to understand was that it certainly was heroic, if stupid, but in the end all bittersweet.

Less than two weeks, that was it. Jack was still a prisoner, and Sawyer was in a little boat paddling away from him, listening to Kate say they had to go back. She had no idea how much he wanted that, how badly he would need it. But there was bravery, there was repaying a debt, and then there was suicide. And perhaps the fresh air put that second thought out of his head.

They would rescue Jack, the sacrificing bastard, but they would do it from a position of strength. And they would drag his ass back to camp. If Sawyer did not get to escape impending fatherhood, then neither did he.

Unfortunately, Kate set off on the rescue party without him, taking all the damn alphas with her too. But that was fine. It was good. Sawyer was tired. And he had a lot of thinking to do while he rested.

+

“Why we gotta be out here so damn early?” Sawyer demanded of his hunting buddy.

“You asked me to help you catch a boar,” Desmond said. “Well, this is when they break cover to eat.”

“Looks like they picked a day to sleep in,” Sawyer replied, wishing he had done the same. Maybe it was important to be well liked in their little beachside community, but catching everyone some pork would not mean much if he snapped at them for being cranky after no sleep.

“So what’s your angle, brother?” Desmond asked. “Why are we out here?”

Sawyer was silent for a moment. Then he rested his gun in the dirt so he could concentrate enough to talk. “Huntin’ boar,” he said.

“And what else?”

“Why’s there gotta be somethin’ else?”

“Because,” Desmond said, not turning his head from their targeted area, “you’ve been eyein’ me for days now. But it took you until last night to finally approach. Just wonderin’ what’s on your mind, is all.”

“Well then,” Sawyer said, “let’s just cut to the chase, man to man, omega,” he flicked his gun in Desmond’s general area, “to omega.” He pointed at himself.

“Oh, thank God,” Desmond laughed. He sounded so relieved. “I thought you might’ve been an alpha trying to proposition me.”

“You know I ain’t no alpha,” Sawyer scoffed.

“Honestly?” Desmond replied. “I’m not as good at telling these things as I used to be. Been underground with my own scent too long or... something.”

“Well, I could sure as hell smell it on you,” Sawyer said. “Minute Jack busted in that hatch on your boat, I could tell you’d just come down offa one.”

“Mm,” Desmond hummed. “Cramped little boat, not exactly an ideal place for it.”

“Granted now,” Sawyer smirked, “it was funny watchin’ Jack and Sayid pop a woody when they went down in there.”

“Humor’s relative,” Desmond said. And Sawyer supposed two horny alphas was the last thing a weak, drunk, overly sensitized omega wanted to see.

“And I guess I do have you to thank for using up any manner of contraception that might’ve been in the Hatch,” Sawyer assumed.

“Aye,” Desmond confirmed. “Suppressants from my boat lasted... half a year maybe. After that my mate— here meaning friend, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Kelvin used condoms with me. Decent chap, Kelvin, never got me pregnant.”

Sawyer nodded his head along, waiting until it got to the part he was interested in. “And after?” he urged. “What’ve you been doin’ since you run out?”

“Suffering,” Desmond answered, one word.

“Fantastic.” Sawyer knew better than to hope, but a part of him wished that the reigning omega on the island had unlocked some sort of secret.

“Kelvin would trigger a lockdown,” Desmond told him, “seal me away in a room by myself for a few days.”

“So,” Sawyer asked, “how do you manage it?”

Desmond shook his head. “You don’t ‘manage it’,” he said. “You survive it. And you spend every minute of every hour doubting that you will.”

“Looks like you came out on top,” Sawyer pointed out.

“Maybe I did,” he agreed. “But there are moments I wished I hadn’t. Because every time the fog clears, I know it’ll be coming back.” Desmond sighed deeply, hopelessly. “People describe it as an itch you can never scratch. But personally? ...I think it’s more like torture, a death that doesn’t have the decency to kill you.”

Sawyer was quiet. He readjusted his gun, remembering why they were supposed to be out there. “Well, there goes my last idea,” he muttered.

“How long?”

“Not long at all,” Sawyer told him. “Two days, maybe three, four if I’m real damn lucky.”

“I could tie you up somewhere,” Desmond offered, “check on you every so often, bring you food, water.”

“Why would you do that?” Sawyer asked, confused. “Why would you wanna help me?”

Desmond laughed. “It’s us against them, isn’t it?” he said. “If a couple of omegas looking to avoid getting pregnant can’t help each other out, what hope is there for an organized society?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sawyer agreed. “But I... I been thinkin’.”

When he went quiet Desmond had to prompt him to continue. “Go on, brother. What is it you were thinking about?”

“Let’s just say I got my baby daddy all picked out,” he said. “We been through two rounds now. Only difference this time is we’re fresh outta condoms.”

“Rough that,” Desmond sighed. “So you’d do it then, you’d bite the bullet and give in?”

“What?” Sawyer scoffed. “Am I not a credit to omegas everywhere no more?”

“It’s not that,” Desmond said. “If it’s what you want, you have my support. I’m jealous, honestly. I’ve wanted to give in a dozen times at least.”

“Well, why didn’t you?” Sawyer asked. “You don’t exactly paint a graceful picture out of abstinence.”

“Got a girl back home,” he said. His smile was fond and kind, though tinted with sadness. “Don’t know if she’s waiting on me or not, to be honest. But thinking about her keeps me going, Sawyer. It helps. I want a family with her, yeah?” He looked so content to have that one shred of hope to hang onto, an idea that he hid away in a drawer until he needed to look at it. “Her dad though, he never thought I was good enough, never thought an omega like me could provide for his daughter.” Desmond leaned over and put an arm over Sawyer’s back. It felt like some weird half hug, all he could manage while lying on his stomach. “But for three years I saved the world,” he said. “That’s got to count for something.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sawyer pushed him off. “Good luck with that. Just don’t get all warm and fuzzy on me.”

Desmond smiled and went back to his gun, holding it steady on the grove before him. “So who is he?”

“Who is who?”

“Your fella,” Desmond said. “Your alpha, who is he?”

“This ain’t gossip corner,” Sawyer said. “And we ain’t gal pals neither.”

“Just an innocent question,” Desmond shrugged. “Shh!”

“I wasn’t sayin’ any—”

“Shh!” Desmond whispered again. Then he nodded in front of them. There was a boar. Desmond took aim.

“It’s Jack,” Sawyer confessed as the rifle went off.

Desmond sat up, twisting around and dropping his gun. “Did you say it was Jack?” he questioned. “He’s the alpha you’ve been with?”

“Yep.”

“But Jack’s not here.”

Sawyer got up off the cold ground. “Yeah, I noticed that too.”

“But- but,” Desmond stammered, “what are you going to do? What will you do if some miracle doesn’t bring him back right in the nick of time?”

“Well,” Sawyer considered, “I guess you and me will have to find ourselves some rope... brother.” He looked Desmond right in the eye when he said, “‘Cause it ain’t gonna be anybody but him.”

With a prospect like that in mind, Sawyer’s relief could only be imagined— and never fully understood by another— when Jack came walking past the brush and over that pile of sand. It was the best sight he could have wished for.

+

People crowded Jack, all happy and excited for his return. He shook hands. Sun hugged him, so did Hurley. Charlie put an arm around him, and Jack could not help the smile he felt to see Aaron.

But it was that thought towards children, a baby, which made him turn his head and search. His eyes roved over the crowd for that one individual.

Sawyer stood still on the spot, sticking out amongst the moving, boisterous throng. They looked at each other and gave a little nod. Sawyer stepped forward and they shook hands. Neither felt that sufficient enough, and so they came together in a hug, clasped hands still held between them, keeping a distance, averting outward suspicion. It was very tame and normal— except for the sound of Sawyer sniffing at his neck, an audible noise in Jack’s ear.

“We’ll talk soon,” Jack promised as they pulled apart.

It was difficult to get away, but he assured everyone in the camp that there would be a full report.

He met Sawyer as soon as he was able, which was an hour later and far down the beach. Neither was sure what to say.

“Thanks,” Sawyer broke the dead air, “for savin’ me. But I wouldn’t have minded goin’ out if I knew that little creep went with me.”

“When I operated on Ben, it was to save your life,” Jack said, confirming what facts Sawyer knew from his limited perspective. “ _Why_ I saved him... was to get off the island. I made a deal, and I was going to leave.”

“Leave?” Sawyer questioned. He had a dozen thoughts and Jack knew every one of them.

“I was going to come back,” he said, “for everyone, for you.”

“Just not in enough time.” Sawyer snorted air through his nose, a meaningless half-laugh as if there were actually something funny. “You were really gonna run,” he said. “You were gonna leave me on this goddamn island to figure something out myself. ‘Adios, Sawyer. We had us a good couple nights in the jungle, but best of luck and see ya soon.’”

“I know you slept with Kate.” It was not the ideal moment Jack had planned on bringing the matter up, but if Sawyer wanted to go on about hurt feelings, then he could too. “I saw you together... on a monitor. I guess you didn’t know about the camera.”

“Ah.” And Sawyer seemed to understand a little better. He smirked. “You’re jealous. But which one of us are you jealous of, I wonder.”

“Kate,” he answered simply, honestly, no hesitation.

Sawyer’s brows drew together and he glared at Jack, displeased. “I warned you against thinkin’ you own me.”

“Yeah.” Jack took a step closer, meeting him eye to eye, stare against stare. “You did.”

Sawyer looked away first, not from cowardice, but from strength, maturity. “Well, if it makes you feel better I thought I was gonna die.” He stepped down, taking their argument off the stove before it bubbled over. “And even if you had been there, every man wants to go out on top, if you catch my meaning.”

Jack knew he would look like the lesser man if he pursued the subject. “I’m sorry,” he said, but it was not on behalf of his jealousy. He could not apologize for that because it had not gone away. Some things were too ingrained, too preprogrammed into his nature. Jack’s possessiveness was stronger than him. “I’m sorry I was going to leave. I should have made a deal that included you.”

Sawyer shook his head, knowing better. “They barely wanted to leave me alive. They damn sure weren’t gonna let me leave outright.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to rock casually on the balls of his feet. It dug him into the sand. “Water under the bridge now, ain’t it? I’m here. You’re here.”

“Yeah... I’m here.”

“I was worried,” Sawyer confessed.

“Worried about me?” asked Jack. “Or were you worried about going into heat without me here?”

“Both,” he said. He set his pride aside and answered that truthfully. “I didn’t want to leave you, Jack, but I didn’t wanna disrespect your oh so honorable sacrifice either. Now I’m glad you’re all right, I am, but I need you. We’re at the eleventh hour here. It could hit me tomorrow, day after maybe.”

“What would you have done if I didn’t make it back in time?” Jack asked. The days he spent on the other side of the island had ticked away with that very question. And it was a cruel decision, a leader’s obligation, that he thought he would have to choose the submarine and salvation above Sawyer. In the end though, Locke made the decision for him by blowing up the sub. Jack came back to the camp. But he still needed to know what Sawyer would have done without him.

“Me and Desmond had a plan,” he said with a lazy shrug.

“You and...” Jack’s nose scrunched at the bizarre idea of it. “Desmond’s an omega.”

“I didn’t say the plan was to fuck me, ya jealous bastard. Although,” he said just to rile Jack, “that there would be a kid with a damn fine head of hair.”

Sawyer’s charm and caustic attitude had not dulled with absence. But if he thought Jack could not see below the shield they created, he was wrong. Sawyer was anxious, obviously so, but through that knowing fear he still looked at peace with the inevitability of it.

“What’s gotten into you?” Jack asked.

“What do you mean?” He turned his chin down to the sand, knowing what Jack meant but putting off his own answer.

“You know what will happen when you go into heat.” Sawyer nodded, still not looking up. “We’re out, Sawyer. We’re out of condoms. There aren’t enough.” He nodded again. “You’ll get pregnant.”

“I know.”

“And you’re ready for that?” Jack stepped forward. He tilted his head down so he could look up into Sawyer’s face. He was scared, sick with worry, but he was determined as well. “Why the change of heart?”

“Nothin’ I can do to stop it,” Sawyer said. He noticed that Jack was watching and pushed him away. “Also I, uh, I held Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Yeah, the little— Claire’s baby,” he explained.

“I know who Aaron is,” Jack told him. “I just didn’t think you did.”

“Yeah. And now I ain’t sayin’ it gave me the fever or anything,” he muttered, “but the little guy’s not so bad. Kinda cute, far as babies go.”

“He is,” Jack agreed with a smile. “He’s a happy baby.”

“And you and me,” Sawyer went on, “well, we ain’t a half bad pair of guys to look at, especially me.” Jack exhaled a laugh and nodded. “We could make a damn cute kid.”

“We could,” Jack said. He closed his eyes, waited. Finally he felt too guilty to let things go any further. “And maybe one day we will.”

“‘One day’?” Sawyer questioned. “What the hell you talkin’ about, one day? We’re down to a literal one day here, Jack.”

“I just, I uh...” There was a cold fear, like ice water, coursing through Sawyer’s expression. He must have thought Jack was running out on him, abandoning him at the worst possible moment. Instead Jack reached into his pocket. There came that rattling sound, that telltale sign of unforeseen salvation. Jack tossed the pills to Sawyer, who, though dazed, still managed to catch them. He stared at them, confused. “From the Barracks,” Jack explained, and now he was the one who felt too embarrassed to look up, too guilty. “I tore their medical building apart until I found some. It’s late, I know. We are at the eleventh hour like you said, but if you double up the doses for a couple days, you should avoid going into heat. You’ll probably be a little sick, some nausea maybe, but you’ll be okay.”

Sawyer breathed hard, loud inhales that tore through him, picked up his shoulders and dropped them down again. “You couldn’t’ve told me you were pocketing these _before_  I went and made a damn fool of myself?” He glared angrily at the pills, seething.

“I could have,” Jack said. “But I wanted to hear what you had to say. More importantly, I think you needed to say it.”

Sawyer’s fist clenched tightly around the bottle. It rattled as his hand shook.

He threw them back at Jack. “I don’t want ‘em.”

“What?” He tried to force the pills back on Sawyer, but he would not take them. “Don’t be an idiot. This isn’t what you want. You’re just close to your heat and it’s messing with you. Take the suppressants, Sawyer.” It felt too much like he was begging.

“You know that thing,” Sawyer sighed. “Happens to people that are dyin’, cancer or whatever.” He shuffled from one foot to the other and squinted up at the bright sky, looking anywhere but at Jack. “They get their affairs all in order. They accept it, wait for it... Then somethin’ happens. Their miracle comes in.” He gestured to the bottle of suppressants in Jack’s hand. “Suddenly they don’t know what to do. This thing they’d prepared for, it’s been pushed back. They’re lost, feel like they got no identity anymore, like it was stole from ‘em. They hate,” he shook his head, “their miracle.”

“What are you trying to say?” Jack asked. He knew though. He already knew.

“I accepted it,” Sawyer said. “Ain’t that what you told me to spend the last couple weeks doin’?” He looked at Jack, finally, and his eyes were glossed, heavy with complicated emotions. “I sat in a _damn cage_  with nothin’ to do but think. And I made my peace with it. I...” He croaked a broken noise, not a sob but something just as thick. “I thought about us bein’ daddies. I did what you told me to, damn it! I did what you said. And now,” he pointed one last time to Jack’s bottle of pills, “I hate my miracle.”

“Don’t do this,” Jack said. It was a plea, but he tried to say it in as stern of a voice as he could. When Sawyer was near a heat he often obeyed Jack without a second thought. It did not work that time. Sawyer shook his head. “Take the pills!” Jack yelled.

Sawyer cut him the meanest, most defiant look. His hard brow sunk low. He was angry. A lesser man than Jack would have walked away from fear. “No.”

“God!” Jack kicked a pile of sand and it went flying in a thousand different directions. “I’m sorry, all right?! I’m glad you finally made a choice, that you let one side win. I am,” he huffed, “really goddamn happy for you, Sawyer. But I do not have _time_  for this right now. Do you understand that? There is too much going on. We are too close to finding a way off this island.”

“You mean with your good friends the Others?” Sawyer interrupted. “With whatever plan you had that fell through, landed you right back on this damn beach?”

“I’ll find another way,” Jack swore. “I won’t stop until I do. But this,” he gestured back and forth between them, “this is a big decision. And we will discuss it, I promise. But for now I want you to take the suppressants.” He held his hand out. The innocent bottle with all its heavy weight hung between them. “For me,” he asked of Sawyer. “Then when I have a minute we can talk about this like we mean it. And when these run out, if we’re still not rescued, I will be right there with you. We’ll face it together.”

Sawyer’s hand shook at his side, a little twitch. After a full minute of consideration, he reached out and he took the pills. His fingers lingered so delicately over Jack’s, a kinder touch than anything that had ever transpired between them. He put the pills in his pocket and Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, Sawyer.” He felt a dense weight lifted, put off until he was strong enough to handle it. “And this is not a no, all right? If you still want to do this, we _will_  do it. All I’m asking for is a little time.” He laughed, a sound that was still so forced and ill-fitting in their conversation. “And you know you’ll want to have our baby in a hospital anyway.”

Sawyer nodded his head distractedly. “Our baby,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Our baby,” Jack said with a grin. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sawyer, holding him tight. “Our baby.” Sawyer did not return the embrace. He was a hard statue, no doubt still too mad at Jack. But that was all right. He would recover. They would discuss it. And in a month they would be rescued or pregnant. The inevitability of either, of both, made Jack’s heart lighter. “Our baby,” he said one last time before letting go.

+

Jack addressed the camp as he said he would. He told them of his failed escape, his unrealized rescue for them all.

There was great opposition against most of what he had to say. No one fought as strongly as Sawyer. He was still irritated with him, and attacking Jack publicly was always his favorite form of payback.

But it all faded to inconsequence. Jack’s loyalties became a question for another day when a more immediate problem presented itself. Claire fainted with blood pouring from her nose. Everything else took a backseat.

Jack and Charlie carried Claire to her tent. He asked all the right questions but had no conclusion for the sudden illness.

It was Juliet who shed a light.

Kate pulled him from Claire’s side and to Juliet’s, several paces from the tents. The matter was confidential, as many were.

“For some reason,” she explained to them, “the women here can’t have babies. The mother’s body turns on the pregnancy, treats it as a foreign invader. I saw it happen over and over. Every pregnant woman on this island died.” From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Kate look towards their group, towards Sun. “That is,” Juliet went on, “every pregnant woman until Claire.”

Jack’s mind was reeling. “What did you do to her?” he asked.

Blood samples, kidnapping, injections, all to protect Claire and her baby, and all because she presented with that vague mutation, as the Others did.

Jack listened to what Juliet said, each line a brick that built steps until he had achieved one more level of understanding against the island, one more reason to hate it.

“What about omegas?” he asked slowly, quietly, feeling like he was in a daze.

“I’m sorry?” Juliet questioned.

“What about male omegas?” he repeated urgently. “How do pregnant omegas fare on the island?”

She shook her head. “I wish I had an answer for you, Jack, I do. But of the nine cases I dealt with, they were all women. And those women were betas. Our people— Ben’s people,” she corrected herself, “they’re betas. I didn’t ask, but I felt... I think they believe alphas and omegas would upset a balance. Even you, the brief time you were there, made people uneasy.”

Jack was silent and thinking. “Just go,” he said. “Go get the,” he gestured to the tree line, “medicine for Claire,” that serum Ethan hid and which she was now experiencing withdrawals from.

Juliet did not linger. She left as instructed, desperate to prove herself.

Jack ran a tired hand down his face, processing one more absurdity, one more consequence upon the pile. With shaking steps he walked farther from camp, down to the beach. Salty air blew at him.

“Jack.” Kate followed after him. He knew she would. “Jack!”

He turned on her. His breath was heavy, too heavy for the short distance he had gone. “What? What Kate?”

“You asked about omegas,” she said. “You asked Juliet what happens to pregnant omegas.” She looked away— forestalling her own statement— before staring him in the eye again. “You were asking for Sawyer.”

“Yeah, Kate, I was asking for Sawyer.”

“Is he...” She took a shuddering breath. Her brows contorted with emotion. She was hesitant, scared. “Is he pregnant?”

He felt glad that he could tell her, “No.” Her drawn features relaxed. She looked at him and smiled with relief. “No, Kate, he’s not pregnant. We’ve been through two heats now, together. I’ve gotten him through it. And both times we had protection. He was due again soon, so I took some suppressants I found at the Barracks.” He put his hands on her shoulders, comforting her. “He’s gonna be okay. I just have to get him off this island before that bottle runs out.”

She brushed his hands off and stepped forward to hug him instead. “Thank God.”

Jack rested his head on top of hers and patted her back. “He’s gonna be all right.”

Claire was all right too. Jack made the call to trust Juliet. And by midday she woke up, feeling almost completely back to normal.

As far as Jack’s opinion went, that earned Juliet her spot amongst them. He told her as much when he gave her a tarp to make her own tent with.

For what remained of that day there was a generous silence. It was the night which brought more problems.

+

Jack woke slowly, first to a quiet rustling sound and then to the warm sensation of lips kissing up his neck and down his jaw. He could not have been asleep for very long because he was slow to come back from it. But what he awoke to felt good enough to stay.

“Mmm,” he murmured with a lazy grin, putting a hand on Sawyer’s back and pulling him closer. “What’s the wakeup call for?” He was almost too asleep to question it. Sawyer’s actions, his very presence, were a powerful anomaly. Jack must have been dreaming. It was a very lucid dream.

Sawyer moved up, kissing him on the lips, quieting him for a moment. Jack went along with it. He would wait to see whatever Sawyer had planned, why exactly he was in Jack’s tent sticking his tongue in his mouth.

He pulled away after a long, indulgent minute and rested his forehead against Jack’s, panting thick breaths of air between them. “I figure if we leave now we can get a round in before it hits me,” he whispered. The words were babble to Jack’s still sleeping brain. He could not make sense of them. “I’ve never done it while I was in my right mind,” Sawyer went on. “Might be fun.” He pressed his hips against Jack in a slow, oscillating motion, making wanton thrusts that mimicked sex. “Granted I am dry right now,” he said, dropping his head down to speak in Jack’s ear, “but I figure if you give me a little backdoor tickle it might get things goin’.”

His intent could no longer be misinterpreted or denied. Jack was awake.

He shoved Sawyer off and sat up. “What did you do?” he asked. He dreaded the answer Sawyer would not give. “What did you do?!” he shouted.

Sawyer’s black silhouette blew a sigh from between its puffed out cheeks. “It’s more like what I didn’t do,” he said.

“What did you do with the suppressants?” Jack demanded. His voice was quiet but burned hot and threatening, hiding not an ounce of his growing anger, despite its gentle volume.

“Gave ‘em to Desmond,” he answered.

“You what?!”

“Des-mond!” Sawyer yelled back slowly, as if he were trying to communicate with someone who spoke a different language. “Poor bastard needed ‘em worse than me. He deserves a break.”

“Sawyer, what have you done?” Jack’s voice quivered from rage or fear one. Not even he was certain which.

“Won’t take long,” Sawyer said, oblivious to what his rash actions had wrought, “couple hours. Sometimes it ends a whole lot quicker when you’re playin’ for keeps.”

“Sawyer!” Jack yelled, and he hit his fist against a bamboo pole. It shook the flimsy tent. “Damn it! People can’t get pregnant on this island.”

“Well, if they can’t then what’re we waitin’ for?” he replied with a smirk.

“No, I mean they shouldn’t,” he specified. “They die, Sawyer. Do you understand me? They... die, them and the baby.”

Sawyer crawled up onto his knees and glared down at Jack. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that?” he exclaimed.

“I gave you the suppressants,” Jack justified, turning the indignation back on him. Sawyer would not make it his fault. “I didn’t find out until after that. I thought you were taking them, so telling you wasn’t high on my list of priorities right now.”

“What do we do?” he asked, looking to Jack to make things right. It was not a burden he wanted to take. “What do we do, damn it!”

Jack could have screamed. He wanted to, and it was still a very real possibility in his future. Instead he grabbed his shoes and slipped them on. “We’re going to see Juliet,” he said. He tightened his laces and tied them.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere near that woman,” Sawyer refused. “Don’t need help from someone who was more than happy to watch me suffer. Shot me with a damn stun dart, put a gun to Kate’s head. She’s one of them, and I don’t trust her.”

“She is a fertility doctor,” Jack stated, arguing in very plain terms as if Sawyer were a stubborn child, “and you are about to be very fertile. So unless you have any other experts in the field that you want to consult with, we’re going to Juliet.” His anger, his stern voice and unwavering eyes gave not an inch of room for argument.

Jack left the tent. Sawyer reluctantly followed. There were a few people still out and awake who made a point of not looking at either of them. They must have heard the shouting, if not its intent or meaning.

“Juliet,” Jack called from outside her tent. She came out seconds later, looking alert and still awake. Jack reached behind himself and grabbed Sawyer hard around the arm. He dragged him forward, thrusting the man before Juliet and holding him there. “Tell her what you did, Sawyer.”

He glared at Jack. Then he adopted an unpleasant, sarcastic smile and said, “I didn’t take my medicine like a good little boy.”

“He’s about to go into heat in a few hours,” Jack said. He was beyond irate and it reflected in his tone. “Tell me what to do to stop it.”

“Stop it?” she questioned.

“Yes, stop it,” Jack repeated. “If he gets pregnant, he dies. That’s what you said. So I need you to stop this from happening.”

“You can’t stop it,” she said, looking genuinely upset, “not with so little time left. We don’t have the necessary sedatives here.”

It was the answer that Jack expected, that made sense, that he knew as a doctor himself. It was not the answer he wanted to hear. “Make it stop!” he shouted at her.

“Jack,” she said in her soothing voice, trying to calm him, to reason with him. “You know as well as I do, Jack, all we can do at this point is lock him up someplace where he can’t get out and alphas like yourself can’t get in.” She turned to address Sawyer. “It will be strenuous, and it will be maddeningly frustrating. To properly convey how bad, I will reemphasize: there will be moments you believe you’ll go insane before it ends. It could last... twice as long as any other heat you’ve experienced before.”

“Yeah, all four of them,” he muttered.

“Are you sure you would want to go through with it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jack answered for him, “he does.” He dragged Sawyer away, still holding onto his arm.

“Thanks for everything,” Sawyer stated cheerily, in no way sincere. “You’ve been a real good help.”

Jack pulled and pushed, depending on whether Sawyer felt like being difficult and lagging behind or walking ahead like he still had pride to display. Jack brought them back to his tent, and only then did he let go.

“Stay,” he ordered as he ducked inside. He came back out a minute later, stuffing rope into a backpack.

“You can’t be serious,” Sawyer groaned.

“Oh, I’m serious.” And he stared Sawyer in the eye, daring him to argue. “You don’t get to die.” What a world they lived in where death often sounded like the better option against living on the island.

Jack put a hand on Sawyer’s back and shoved, pushing him in the direction of the jungle.

“Come on.”

They walked together for half a mile, beating out a pair of footfalls that sounded so dissimilar. Jack marched on. Sawyer dragged his feet. Then one was snuffed out. The noise stopped. Sawyer stopped. He just stood there. Jack walked on several more steps before he noticed.

“What?” he asked, though he did not want to waste the time to ask it or wait for the answer.

“I can’t do it.” Sawyer shook his head.

“Yes, you can,” Jack told him. It was not a very inspiring speech, but at the moment he was not feeling very inspired. “You can and you will. Because if you don’t, you die. Do you get that, Sawyer? You will die.”

“I can’t do it,” he repeated. “I can’t... I...” His fingers dug into the thick denim of his jeans, desperately needing something to grab and clutch. “I just can’t, all right?”

“Sawyer, we don’t have time for this,” Jack said, interrupting whatever he had to say. “Now, you don’t have to like it, but I’m saving your life.”

Sawyer took his bag off and threw it on the ground. “No, you listen here, Doc. ‘Cause you don’t know what it’s like. You think you lose it when I’m in heat? Well, you never been on the other side. There’s a goddamn fire under my skin and in my brain. I can’t think of anything but putting it out. And that effort,” he said, “that little bit of somethin’ we do, is all that gets me through it.”

“You’re stronger than you think, James.” And perhaps it was a dirty trick to use his name, to address him as Jack only ever did while in heat. It was manipulative, but at the moment, Sawyer needed to be manipulated for his own good. “You can do this, James. You can.”

Sawyer’s knees shook a little, loving to hear his name, needing every implication that came along when Jack spoke it. He shook his head, stubborn beyond help. “I talked to Desmond. I needed to know how he did it, what sorta trick he had up his sleeve. ‘Got a girl,’ he says. ‘Want a family with her,’ he says. I ain’t got that, Jack. There’s nothing to get me through this. There’s nothing I have to fight for. You’re not tyin’ up an omega that doesn’t wanna get pregnant. You’re not tyin’ up one that has somethin’ better waiting for ‘em if they can just make it through the night. You are taking an omega that made his peace with it, that actually _wants_  a fucking kid, and you are tying him up so that can’t happen, in a time when he knows it should.” He hung his head. The weight of the world was on him and he accepted the burden, hefting it upon his shoulders with Atlas’s strength. “So when I tell you I can’t do it, Jack, I mean... I can’t... do it. I’m not strong enough ‘cause there’s no reward if I do.”

“Living,” Jack said, “that’s one hell of a reward.” He felt desperation to his bones. The battle was slipping, if he ever had the advantage. Perhaps he only thought he did. “Sawyer, don’t,” he begged.

“I think,” Sawyer said, “I think maybe we’re supposed to.”

“No!” Jack shouted. “No, you do not get to go off like Locke, with his higher purpose and island magic. It’s crap, Sawyer. Because you know what this island really does? You know what it does to people who just want to start a family? It kills them. Before they can even get excited about being pregnant, it kills them.”

“Well, maybe I’m different,” Sawyer argued. “Not exactly from around here, and an omega to boot.”

“You’re not,” Jack told him. “You’re not different. You are not special. Do you hear me? There is _nothing_  special about you. You’re just some redneck omega who had the bad luck to go down in a plane with the rest of us.”

Sawyer shook his head, brushing it off, knowing Jack did not mean what he said. “I want it,” he said. His eyes were so clear, his expression earnest, objective realized. “I’m ready, Jack. And I would really... like if it was you. Only fair, right?” He laughed and it was strained. “You been runnin’ this race. Not right to let some other guy cross the finish line.” He smiled an uneven half grin that was nothing but a plea. “Will you help me out, Jack? Let us have our baby.”

“You’ll die,” Jack spoke, whispering his last bid. “And I’ll be the one that killed you.”

Sawyer laughed. “I absolve you of guilt. All on me. How’s that?”

Jack sniffed, feeling like he was on the verge of tears. It was not fair. Why did they always have to fight and claw against the injustice of it all? Why did that effort never help them get ahead? He sniffed again. That time it was to clear him of emotion, to wipe his ambivalence away.

He would never fully know if he saw Sawyer’s plight and agreed, or if he simply lost a doomed argument. The decision felt most like flipping a coin in his mind, taking the option Fate dictated.

They continued along the path they were on, towards the caves. The only difference was Jack would not be using the rope in his bag.

He did not speak to Sawyer.

The caves were dark, lit only by moonlight and Jack’s torch. Sawyer said he would get firewood. Jack did not speak to him.

He made several trips, bringing more wood than they needed. Maybe he just wanted something to do. He built a nice fire and sat down against the cave wall behind it. Jack rolled his torch into the dirt, putting it out. He sat on the other side of the cave, in the dark, away from Sawyer.

“You’re mad at me.”

“You’re damn right I’m mad,” Jack said, almost loud enough to be a shout. “You had no right to do that without telling me.”

“And you had no right not tellin’ me the minute you found out about killer babies,” Sawyer countered, still sounding so guiltless from his side of the fence.

“At least you’ll finally be pregnant,” Jack said, feeling excessively petty. “Screw the cost, right? Because you’ll finally have what it is you want. And what Sawyer wants, Sawyer gets. Right?”

He did not reply. Sawyer knew what he did was selfish and stupid. It was why he did not tell Jack that he never had any intention of taking the suppressants. Because then they would have to discuss it further. And still they would end up where they were now.

They waited in silence, waited until action became necessary. The tiny trickle of water in the cave roared in the quiet like some great waterfall. The fire popped and crackled. They listened to nothing but that for an hour or more.

“I’m ready.”

Jack got up and walked resignedly to the side of the cave Sawyer had prepared. He was laying on a blanket and had taken his pants off but kept his boxers and shirt. Jack could smell him, and despite every serious dread within himself, the scent of Sawyer in heat triggered that familiar need in him, just as it had both times before. He unzipped his own pants and dropped them where he stood.

“What, no striptease?” Sawyer joked. His cocky smile faltered and then fell in the presence of Jack’s continued silence.

Sawyer began working with the buttons of his shirt, but his hands were shaking.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Let me,” Jack offered, speaking before thought could tell him to stop. Then he decided to do away with the silent treatment altogether. It was stupid, cruel, and in no way what either of them needed in that moment.

Jack knelt down and Sawyer parted his legs for him to slip between. He ran slow, gentle hands up the fabric covering Sawyer’s chest before fixing his fingers on the top button.

“You not mad anymore?” Sawyer asked, genuinely confused, as if he expected hate sex that ended with resentment.

“No,” Jack spoke quietly, “I’m not mad anymore, James. I’m worried, but... let’s not think about that right now.”

“Deal.”

Jack slipped the last button free and dragged his hands along the man’s muscular sides. Sawyer sat up and Jack let his questing, groping hands continue to the taut skin of his back.

“Mmm,” Sawyer moaned, a contented noise. Jack knew every nerve in his body must have been alight with sensitivity. Maybe he would give Sawyer a massage when they were knotted together later.

Jack slid the shirt off Sawyer’s shoulders and tossed it away. “You’re beautiful,” he said as he leaned down to kiss and nip along Sawyer’s neck.

“Your cock’s beautiful,” he said in reply. “Wouldn’t mind seein’ more of him.”

“Wait,” Jack whispered in his ear. It gave Sawyer chills.

He leaned back and pulled Sawyer’s boxers down and then off. Jack loved the sight of him every time, those long limbs covered in tan skin. He pulled his own shirt off and threw it away, into the pile they were creating.

“Underwear,” Sawyer growled, wanting to see all of Jack, especially his favorite part.

Jack shook his head with a grin. He slid his boxers down over his hips and then sat back as he pulled them off his legs. “You happy now?” he asked.

“No,” Sawyer said. “I need it in me, Jack. I need it.”

“You been playing with yourself again?” Jack asked, curious how much preparation Sawyer would need. “Have you been sticking your fingers in there and thinking about me?”

“Yes,” he moaned, and his hand dragged down the skin of his thigh to demonstrate what that looked like. He stuck two fingers inside and pulled on his hole, showing Jack how ready he was, how wet he was. “I know you said you wanted to watch, but... that would’ve given away my flawless plan.”

“Next time,” Jack said, knowing full well that there would be no ‘next time’, no next heat. “Now get your fingers out of there so I can fuck you like you need.”

Sawyer growled and obeyed. He stayed on his back, the position they had used every time before. Why not for the most intimate one? Why not look at each other when they made a baby?

Jack crawled closer. Sawyer spread his legs further. He pulled his ass apart, putting himself on display. Jack held his bare cock in his hand. There was no condom for them that time.

He leaned down, laying himself over Sawyer’s body, and kissed him, heated but sweet. “You ready?” he asked, feeling nervous.

“Ready as you are, partner.”

They kissed again as Jack pushed inside. Sawyer was so hot, so unbearably hot, when there was nothing between them. It felt amazing. Jack penetrated him a little more, going in past the head.

Sawyer was rambling nonsense, amongst it those token phrases of “yes” and “more.”

It was unlike anything they had done before. The inexperience of the first time, the sloppy rush of the second, they fell before the rapture of their third. Everything came so slowly, and Jack could only compare it to regular sex, to making love.

Sawyer hummed in his throat and murmured obscene compliments to Jack. He did not touch his own cock, hard and wanting as it was. What they were doing in that moment was not about getting off. It was about Sawyer getting a baby.

“You’re so much more agreeable when you’re finally getting what you want from your heat,” Jack commented in a low rumble.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Sawyer smirked. “I’m always a damn peach.” Jack rocked into him, giving him a little more, filling him a little deeper. Sawyer moaned like he was being paid for it. “But maybe,” he gasped, “maybe I do like getting my way. Nothin’... nothin’ new there.” He broke off into a hushed, frantic string of curses. “Oh god,” he whined, “give it all to me, Jack. Keep goin’. Put it in me. Give me that fuckin’ knot. I want your baby, damn it.”

For the first time, Jack was only happy to obey. There was a storm on the horizon, a hurricane that threatened to ruin everything they had and wanted, but for the moment the sun was shining and all was well. Jack would not let the future taint the present.

“I want you to have my baby,” he spoke, a sensual whisper in Sawyer’s ear. “I want to fuck you until there’s no doubt. I want you to get big,” he laughed, feeling elated at the idea, “big and- and fat and miserable with a healthy child.” Sawyer’s lips were parted in a heavy pant but he closed his eyes and smiled at the picture Jack made. “I want everyone to know what I did to you and that we’re happy for it.”

“So happy,” Sawyer said, and he repeated it over and over as Jack pushed in and out of him. “So happy, so damn happy. Want your baby.”

Jack took his time, broke Sawyer down into a mumbling, incoherent mess. And when that raw, erotic image before him was too much to take anymore, he pushed in hard, one last time, and knotted Sawyer, sealing that fate they wanted. They both came.

Sawyer whimpered at the unyielding stretch but calmed down after a few seconds. He was content. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms behind Jack and pulling him down. Jack laid his head on his chest. “I feel it,” Sawyer whispered. Jack bobbed up and down with his hoarse chuckle. “So damn hot inside.”

“You feel good,” Jack said. He kissed lazily against the skin of Sawyer’s breast.

“This is the one right here,” Sawyer said. “I can tell.”

“It doesn’t always happen the first time,” Jack told him. “In fact, I’m pretty sure in about twenty minutes you’ll want to go again, just to be sure.”

“Well,” Sawyer laughed, a silly giggle, “can’t fault a man for bein’ thorough.”

Jack kissed Sawyer’s hairless chest one more time and then raised up. “Turn over,” he said.

Sawyer groaned and shook his head. “I don’t like movin’ when I’m knotted. You know that. Hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“Please.” Jack kissed him on the lips.

“Fine.” Sawyer pushed on Jack’s shoulder to get him to back up. “But if this is just to spoon, know that I will beat the ever livin’ out of ya.” He raised one of his legs up with a painful cry and threw it around Jack before rolling over on his stomach.

Jack leaned down and placed his hands on Sawyer’s back. He began pushing in, kneading all the muscles that held stress and tension.

“Goddamn,” Sawyer cursed and moaned. “All right, fine. This was worth it.”

Jack worked up and down Sawyer’s back. Eventually he laid over him and concentrated solely on his shoulders. There was a fevered heat coming off Sawyer’s skin, and Jack could only imagine how it felt to have those sensitive nerves below it moved around and stimulated.

“What do you think it’ll look like,” Sawyer asked in a drowsy voice, “our baby?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Genetics can be very random sometimes.”

“Maybe have my blond hair and your green eyes,” he went on, fantasizing in spite of Jack’s logic. “Or your dark hair and my blue. Either way,” he smiled, “he’s gonna be a real charmer with the ladies.”

“Or she,” Jack asserted.

“All right,” Sawyer said, “ _she_  will be a charmer with the ladies.” Jack smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow!”

“That’s your daughter,” he said.

“Yes, and I happen to be very supportive of her choices,” Sawyer insisted. “Unlike you, ya homophobe.”

“I’m a homophobe?”

“Yes.”

“My dick is literally in your ass right now and you’re calling me a homophobe?” Sawyer nodded and Jack could not help but to laugh. He leaned down and brushed Sawyer’s long hair away before kissing him on the back of his neck. “You’re insane.”

“Sweet talker.”

They stayed together for a few more minutes before Jack was ready to pull out. Sawyer’s ass leaked a copious mixture of fluids. It was obscene. Had Jack been a stranger to the scene, he would have thought it filthy, disgusting. But knowing he had done that, knowing why, left him prideful and satisfied.

“Time for a water break.”

Sawyer turned over on his back and took the bottle Jack handed him. “I am gross and sticky,” he complained after a drink, “and gross.”

“Do you want to stop?” Jack asked, knowing the answer.

“Hell no,” Sawyer predictably said. “Like you were sayin’, I plan on bein’ very, _very_  thorough.”

And they were thorough. Jack lost track of how many times they did it. Usually he counted condom wrappers as they went. But bareback, going whenever Sawyer needed him, losing himself in his own need, it was easy to forget a silly thing like numbers.

It was true what Sawyer said, what Jack already knew from medical school. A heat did not last as long when the intended result could be derived. It broke shortly after dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I became sort of taken with the idea of Desmond as an omega in this universe. Given how disapproving Penelope’s father is of him, treating him like he’s unworthy. And then Kelvin as an alpha. Which plays in with his possessive, domineering treatment of Desmond, not letting him leave the Hatch and such. It all fits in fairly well. Just saying.


	4. Season Three - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achievement Unlocked: “Mpreg mention” tag has been upgraded to “mpreg.”

Jack could tell the moment Sawyer’s mind cleared. He almost wished it never had.

“God!” Sawyer shouted. He made a pitiful sob in his throat and everything behind it burst. He began crying. “Son of a bitch!” Jack grabbed him and held on tight, even as Sawyer tried to push him away. Eventually he gave up and accepted it. Jack squeezed harder.

There was nothing, no sound, only Sawyer’s hard breaths and whines. Jack could not help but be affected by it, by their situation. He cried with him, silently.

“It’ll be okay,” Jack said with a sniff. “It’ll be okay.”

Sawyer pounded on his side with a weak fist. “Fuckin’ liar!” he shouted. Jack’s chest muffled it. “You don’t know that.”

“Listen to me,” Jack said. “I will get you— get us— off this island. If I have to go to Ben’s door and beg for any vessel they have, I will save you. I promise you, Sawyer, I won’t stop.”

“I just wanted... a damn baby,” he said.

“I know.”

“And the one time I finally up and decide to let myself have one, we get this shit, a whole new chapter on why this island sucks and livin’ here’s damn near impossible.”

Sawyer pushed against Jack, removing himself from the consoling embrace he was in. His outburst was over. He was under control again. Jack let him go and he rolled over onto his back.

They each had much to think on.

The conclusion Sawyer’s thoughts led him to, and which he felt the need to voice, was, “I don’t think I ever needed a cigarette more than in this moment.” He put two fingers against his lips as though he held one. He sucked in and exhaled with dissembled contentment.

Jack’s thoughts lingered more on topic. He could not ignore matters as well as Sawyer. “I’m sorry I talked you into it,” he said. The situation felt like something he would apologize for the rest of their lives. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had no other choice. I knew you didn’t want to get pregnant, but I pushed you to accept that you... had to. I should have tried harder looking for other alternatives.”

“Nah.” Sawyer’s eyes were closed. A ray of morning sun laid perfectly over his face, and Jack could not tell if he was thinking intently or blocking out the bright light. “No, I... I think I always might have wanted it, at least the option. That’s why I never got the damn surgery.”

Jack turned over on his side to face him. “You said you weren’t applicable for surgery.”

“I lie, Jack,” he said. “When’re you gonna get that?” Sawyer opened his eyes but turned his head away, away from Jack. “I went for the consult, but I chickened out. All the goddang papers I had to sign, they... they all made it sound so final.”

“It would have been final.”

“I know.” He inhaled. “That’s why I left, changed my mind. Then I went into heat without my regimen, got pregnant— probably— realized I didn’t want it. So I never went off my meds again, but I never had the surgery either. Stuck myself in a damn limbo of indecision.” He looked back up at the cave ceiling. He stuck a hand out as if he could touch it. “I was just some... idiot kid, twenty-four. Knew I had no business makin’ a decision that’d affect me the rest of my life. But, like a stupid kid, I thought suppressants would always be available. Then if I went and changed by mind, I could.”

“Do you wish you had gone through with it?” Jack asked, feeling they both needed to know the answer. “Do you wish you’d sterilized yourself so we wouldn’t be here?”

Sawyer thought about it. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Told you, Jack. I spent the last month makin’ my bed. Now I’m gonna lie in it, even if it kills me.”

“It _could_  kill you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I committed,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, trying not to sound as beaten down as it made him, “good thing.” He rolled over on his back again.

Despite his constant habit of facing the wrong direction and seeing a world full of only the worst possibilities, Jack wanted to be hopeful, just once, just for this. Sawyer would live. They would get off the island. They would have a baby. The thought, the unfamiliar optimism, dropped him at the foot of a question he felt he had to ask, though he was still hesitant to do so.

“James.”

“Jack.” He took another drag of his imagined cigarette.

“I want you to come live with me.”

Sawyer laughed. “With all due respect, Jack, I think I have the nicer tent. It’s got little windows and, until recently, a very well stocked basement.”

“No,” he shook his head, “in LA. I want you to come and live with me. Just me, and you, and the baby.”

“Did I miss the person shoutin’ their head off that we been rescued?” Sawyer asked. “‘Cause the last time I checked, which was pretty damn recent, we were still stuck on a godforsaken island.”

“Say yes.”

That was something Sawyer had to think about. He valued his independence too highly to give in without a fight. Jack expected it would be a long while before he received an answer, after their anticipated rescue no doubt.

But maybe pregnancy, even one in its earliest of stages, made Sawyer rethink his priorities.

“Well, what kind of opportunist would I be if I said no to free rent?” Jack smiled warm and bright, feeling an unprecedented relief to have Sawyer agree. “Plus, I’ll be conveniently located as I sue Oceanic. I am gonna own that airline, baby.”

Jack chuckled. “I don’t doubt it, man.” He looked at Sawyer. “What are you gonna do with the that kind of money?”

“Now see,” he considered, “here’s where I’m supposed to be responsible, isn’t it? I tell you I’ll squirrel it away for the kid’s college or some other crap. I’m not supposed to say my usual answer. Which is booze, broads, and a seedy little casino down in Mississippi.”

“I’ll take care of college,” Jack said.

“Screw that,” Sawyer scoffed. “There’ll probably be some small print proviso sayin’ the kid’s gotta be another damn doctor. Nuh-uh, I’ll handle college. My progeny ain’t contributing to the venerable line of Doctor Shephards, thank you very much.”

“That’s good,” Jack said, surprising Sawyer with his agreement. “Me with my dad, he, uh... it never really felt like I had much of a choice. So that’s good. That’s,” he chuckled, “that’s really good.”

Sawyer raised an eyebrow and took another inhale of his cigarette. “Damn, that bastard messed you up.” He paused and then he laughed. “Who’d’ve thought when I was sittin’ in that bar I was buyin’ a drink for my baby’s granddaddy. Damn this small world.” He blew out a cloud of smoke. “And gettin’ smaller every day. Observe our modest domain. It extends from the west to the east, as far as your eye can see and not a damn inch further.”

Sawyer was right. Despite the many speeches Jack gave, despite getting so close to freedom he could almost touch it, they were no closer to leaving. Jack’s loathful acknowledgment of that drove him from thoughts of living together in LA and drove him to other forms of commitment.

“Sawyer?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to date you.”

He laughed for a very long time.

“Well, ain’t that just the most back asswards things I ever heard. Let’s see,” he counted off on his fingers, “crazy animal sex, then friendship, baby time, movin’ in together, now we date? Sure, Doc,” he was still laughing, “I’ll buy a ticket to that trainwreck. What is it you got in mind? Moonlit stroll on the beach, again and again and again? Dharma beer out of a coconut shell?”

“You can’t drink.”

“Can’t...” He was stumped on the comment for just a second. Then it hit him. “Ah, hell. Obviously I didn’t think this one through... Son of a bitch.”

“It’s not so bad,” Jack grinned. “You got by before Hurley’s beer van. You’ll do fine after.”

“ _No_ ,” Sawyer said, drawing out the syllable, “before then I was still drinkin’ the hooch off the plane. There was, in fact, a very small window of sobriety. And I spent a week of that in a cage.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jack assured him. “You already quit smoking, and that one’s way harder.”

“I ran out of cigarettes,” Sawyer said. “Didn’t really have much choice.”

“Well, I can’t make people pour out all the beer because you’re pregnant,” Jack said with a snorting laugh, imagining the uprising if he tried.

“If you’re fallin’ this short already,” Sawyer drawled, voice purposefully dull, “I sure can’t wait to see the rest of the Jack Shephard dating experience.”

“I don’t have any plans up my sleeve for what us dating looks like,” he admitted. “I just thought... we should.”

“Don’t you try roping me into some relationship just ‘cause there’s a baby between us and that noble goddamn heart of your feels obligated,” Sawyer told him, and it sounded like a stern warning with consequences attached. “I don’t need that, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“It’s not because you’re pregnant— probably pregnant,” he added. Despite the sheer number of times they had copulated, nothing was ever certain until it was certain. “I just can’t keep on with all of this, the sex, the... intimacy afterwards and not let it mean something. I think, maybe, I want to kiss you and sleep with you outside of your heats. And while we probably won’t advertise that we’re dating, I’d like to do it anyway. But mostly, James, mostly? I just want to know the person who’s carrying my child.”

“I’m a complex guy,” Sawyer said. “Might take awhile.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer agreed listlessly, “few months of it at least.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Fine,” he gave in easily. Jack knew Sawyer did not like thinking about his potential death any more than he did. “Go on then.” He patted Jack’s bare stomach with the back of his hand. “Tell me more about these dating perks. I get sex whenever I want it?”

“Not if the timing’s inconvenient,” Jack said, “but other than that, sure.”

“And in this limitless sex, do you ever plan on bein’ the one to get down on all fours and take it like a man?” Sawyer asked. He rolled over onto his side and watched Jack carefully for his answer.

“Well, I- I...” The thought had never occurred to him. It sounded sexist and pigeonholing, but in Jack’s mind, omegas submitted to alphas. It was what he had been taught, what had been forcibly drilled into his head. But if there was one thing he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that Sawyer was not like other omegas. “I, uh, yeah,” he decided with a nod of his head. “Yeah, we could definitely... We could definitely try that.”

“Cool your jets, Doc,” Sawyer said with a chuckle. “I ain’t talkin’ about doin’ it tonight or anytime soon. So you can go on ahead and relax. I was just curious if you were open to the suggestion, is all. Gettin’ rear-ended nonstop sounded like a deal breaker.”

Jack turned over, pushing Sawyer back onto the blanket and rolling lightly on top of him so that he could look down at all he was, that horrible excuse of a man who was constantly realizing he wanted to do better. Jack kissed him. He kissed Sawyer for their first time as a couple, with clear heads and no heat between them, no excuse.

Jack took the free hand not holding himself up and he ran it over Sawyer’s long hair. It was stringy and damp from jungle humidity and sweat. He combed his fingers through it, enjoying how it felt, enjoying the length.

Sawyer kissed him lazily, brushing their noses against each other. He changed the angle at his leisure, mouthing silent nonsense words against Jack’s lips with a quiet smack. They kissed and nothing more for a minute or two.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind doin’ that whenever I wanted,” Sawyer said with a grin and a turn of his head. He watched the bland cave wall. “In private, of course.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “there’s too much going on right now for us to give any sort of relationship announcement.”

“Sure,” he muttered, “that’s why.” Sawyer pushed against Jack’s shoulder and he pulled back without a fight.

Jack wanted to ask what that comment was about but knew better than to think he would get a straight answer. But also he felt he did not have to ask at all. He was picking up on the man’s thoughts and mannerisms. Sawyer was ashamed that he had given into his biological impulse and began dating an alpha. He had slept with an alpha. He was pregnant by an alpha. After so long of denying and misrepresenting who he was, the last thing he wanted was for people to know just how perfectly he fell into that little box.

“Listen, uh...” Jack knew the worst, most insulting thing he could do was try and make it better. And so he did not try. “We should probably start heading back. We’ll need to wash off first— you more so now than ever.”

“I am a damn disgusting mess,” Sawyer agreed. “Gimme a hand up?” He stuck an arm in the air, waiting for Jack to stand and grab it. He did. He pulled Sawyer slowly to his feet.

“Sore?” Jack asked. He ran gentle fingertips down Sawyer’s arms, knowing that the heightened nerves of heat left exhaustion behind themselves, exhaustion and a pain from being forced to their maximum potential.

“Only everywhere,” he groaned. “My ass most of all.”

“Come on,” Jack said with a fond smile. “Let’s get you to the water.”

“I want hot water,” Sawyer complained. “I want me a good ol’ soak in a tub. This ice cold spring crap ain’t gonna cut it.”

“It’s all we have,” Jack said, leading him to it. “No Hatch anymore.”

“You know,” Sawyer said, and he broke off in a hiss when Jack sat him down on the rock by the water. “You know, that little bug-eyed bastard tried to make me a deal when we were stuck on the other island.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack said. He reached into his backpack and took out a rag, a ripped off piece of what was once a towel. “What did Ben say to you?”

“Said I could buy my way off this island,” he recounted. “All it’d cost me is nine months and stretch marks.”

“He wanted you to get pregnant?” Jack questioned. Knowing what they did now, knowing why, made the idea sit in his stomach like sour milk. “He wanted to risk your life instead of his people’s.”

“And look at me now,” Sawyer scoffed derisively. “Wound up right here anyway. Granted, the good Lord knows he went on about the amazing omega variable enough. So who knows, maybe I am special.”

“I don’t care,” Jack stated. “I still want you off this island.”

“I think you want you off this island,” Sawyer remarked. “But you’re willin’ to take me with you when you go.”

“I want us both off,” Jack said. “And not just us, everyone.” He dipped his rag in the cold water, and he squeezed it over Sawyer’s head, wetting his hair. “But you and Sun are now two of our biggest priorities.” Jack began wiping the salty remnants of dry sweat from his face. Sawyer let himself be cared for and cleaned.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “just lump me in with the pregnant woman.”

“Well, you’re pregnant, James,” Jack said, pulling no punches, “so yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Sawyer gave him a dirty look for his biting candor, but nothing Jack said could be argued over. It was true. Sawyer dropped the flare of anger and tilted his head up, letting Jack wipe down his neck. “I can do this myself, you know.”

“I know.”

Jack soaked the rag in water again and dragged it down Sawyer’s chest. He went far beyond tender, brushing that still aching skin past what it could handle. It must have hurt, but neither of them wanted anyone with a heightened sense of smell to know what they had been doing, not just yet.

Jack hummed quietly, and when he forgot himself, he began to sing the song under his breath. “Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away. Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day.”

He was several lines into the song when Sawyer shook his head, rousing himself. “You tryin’ to put me to sleep, Doc?”

“No,” Jack laughed, feeling embarrassed. “No, I guess I was just thinking about the baby. My dad, he used to sing that to me when I was little.”

“Hmm. My mama,” Sawyer began, only to quiet back down for several long seconds. For some reason the subject was one he did not want to discuss, not with Jack anyway. He gave in though, maybe feeling that inclination to discuss themselves like Jack said. “My mama was partial to ‘You are My Sunshine’. You know that one, ‘You are My Sunshine’?”

“Uh, some, the chorus,” Jack said. “You probably know it better than me.”

“I wasn’t putting in a request,” Sawyer said, shaking his head. “I don’t really know yours either.”

“Well,” Jack considered, sitting down on the rock so he could reach Sawyer’s back, “you sing yours for the baby and I’ll sing mine, how’s that?”

Sawyer rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

“Why is this so easy for you?” he asked after a pause. “How come it is you can just... belt out some lullaby like you’re already stayin’ up half the night with a screamin’ brat? What the hell’s the matter with you?”

Jack considered that and could only say, “I don’t think anything’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m excited.” He squeezed water down on Sawyer’s head again, saturating it in the back. He put the rag down and massaged the wet hair with his fingers, wishing they had some shampoo. “Mostly I am... terrified, don’t get me wrong. But I knew I’d have a child one day. I always knew I’d be a father. Why not now? Why not this complete surprise that I just accept and- and embrace?” Sawyer tilted his head back and Jack scrubbed along his hairline, doing his best to rid it of sweat and oils. “So yeah, I guess... I’m excited to reach that next stage in my life. I wasn’t ready for it before, when my ex-wife thought she might’ve been pregnant. The test was negative but—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Sawyer stopped him. “Ex-wife? Had that little baggage tucked away, didn’t you, Doc?”

“Well, that’s the point of dating,” Jack said. “Face it, we barely know each other.” He squeezed Sawyer’s hair between his fingers, wringing out some of the water. “So how about you? Any ex-wives, any... long term girlfriends that got serious?” Jack knew better than to ask after any boyfriends. He had heard that brief history.

Sawyer paused too long to be giving the truth when he said, “Nah.” He turned his head with a cocky smirk. “Just some hot nights and a string of broken hearts.”

Jack did not challenge him on the lie. It was obviously a story he felt protective over. And pursuing a topic with Sawyer rarely ended successfully. Jack would find out, eventually.

He leaned forward and brushed the rag over Sawyer’s stomach, trying to wash away his dried and drying ejaculate. But like Sawyer had said, cold water hardly did the trick. “Should’ve brought a kettle,” Jack said. “We could have warmed up some water.”

“Learn a little somethin’ every time, don’t we?” He leaned back on his arms, giving Jack a better angle. “Do what you can. I’ll get the rest later.”

Jack washed him, cleansing his rag and trying again. He got most of it off, all except some stubborn masses that stuck in the hair. He wiped all around and saved that smaller omega cock of his for last. One hand held it while the other washed.

“Careful,” Sawyer chastised, or maybe it was a warning, “he’s still sensitive.”

“Noted.”

Despite what Sawyer said, however, he did not get hard. They had thoroughly worn each other out.

Jack pulled his rag away, unable to keep putting off the part he knew Sawyer was dreading. “How do you wanna do this?” he asked. “You can stand and lean against the rocks, get down on your hands and knees, what?”

“Mm-mm,” Sawyer objected. He stood with an aching grunt. “Maybe I should do this part.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Jack assured him. “But I do have the better angle. Let me.”

Sawyer was hesitant, but if there was one thing they had impressed upon each other, it was trust. He turned around and leaned low over the spring, gripping the rocks. “Just get on with it.”

Jack wet his rag and did not wring it of water, leaving himself plenty to work with. He knelt behind Sawyer. The sight was a debauched masterpiece, lewd and vile. His ass was red and gaping, and all around it were the leaked remnants of what Jack had spent inside him.

“Baby ain’t worth all this,” Sawyer griped, but they both knew he would do it all over again, even with the cleanup.

Jack started at the center and worked his way out, being gentle as promised. Sawyer was silent, and Jack knew he must have been gritting his teeth or biting his lip to make that happen. His hole was so irritated and raw that Jack tried not to push in too far and aggravate it further.

“When you wash later,” he advised, “do it in the creek, not the ocean.”

“Yeah, ye— ah!” Sawyer cut himself off in exclamation when Jack pressed against him a little harder, trying to clean what he could. “You wanna take it easy back there?” he nagged. “I’d like to be able to walk without limping some time this week.”

“Sorry,” Jack said. He avoided any further abuse and moved on, down Sawyer’s thighs where it had spread. “All right,” he said when he could do no more, “that’s as good as it’s gonna get until you can submerge yourself.”

Sawyer straightened back out with groan. “Brought a change of clothes this time,” he said. “You mind handin’ that to me?”

Jack retrieved his bag and gave it to him. Then he cleaned himself up while Sawyer dressed.

“It’s gonna be weird,” Jack spoke. “Our lives just changed... drastically, but now we have to go back and act like nothing happened.”

Sawyer slipped into his boots and raised his foot up on a rock to tie them. “Look, Jack,” he said, sounding genuinely sympathetic, “I’m sorry if you wanna do the whole big announcement shtick like the Kwons. But that ain’t us.”

“I know.”

“We didn’t come here already married. Hell, we barely been dating ten minutes. So even if I was all right with people knowin’, even if we went around tellin’ all our friends, ain’t nobody gonna be happy for us. They know just what this is. I was in heat and you helped me out. Now I’m pregnant because of it. That’s all they’ll see. They won’t care that we’re happy about it, that I did it on purpose.”

“I know,” Jack said again. He stepped closer to Sawyer. His wet, naked body contrasted the man’s dry and clothed one. “But you did do it on purpose. I know that and you know that. And we are happy.” He leaned in for a kiss, that casual liberty won from dating. “I know that,” he kissed him again, “and you know that.”

Sawyer pushed him away, but he was smiling. “All right, Romeo. You gotta start rationing out all that cheesy crap. You’re not half as smooth as you think.” He picked Jack’s folded shirt up from the rocks and tossed it at him. “We’ll tell ’em all eventually, I guess. This isn’t the kind of thing that stays a secret long.”

Jack slipped his shirt on and grabbed for his underwear. “Yeah, but I’d rather make the announcement through a mailing list,” he stepped into his boxers, “from LA.”

“What, you don’t want no island baby shower?” Sawyer asked with a smirk, showing off those deep dimples of his. “Granted, spreadin’ the word out here is like a damn death sentence now.”

“Not gonna happen,” Jack insisted. He hopped a few times as he pulled on his jeans. “We’re getting off this island.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer nodded his head distractedly. Jack did not like how the man doubted him. “But if not,” he said before dying down, dropping his nerve. He picked it back up. “If not, we tell folks in two months. How’s that sound to you?”

It was a decent suggestion, set before Sawyer would start to show that little bit. “Month-and-a-half,” Jack countered. “Morning sickness... it’ll probably be really obvious with everyone living so close together, dead giveaway.” He could just imagine Sawyer running to the tree line to throw up, day after day at whatever time it hit him. It would not take long for people to catch on.

“Fine,” Sawyer agreed. He was not excited to hear the reminder of that very likely symptom. “Six weeks and we spill. Mark your calendar.”

They were both clean, both dressed, and there were few excuses left to stay in the caves and avoid everyone. “We should head back,” Jack said, acknowledging the inevitability.

“Or we could just stay here,” Sawyer said. Jack could not tell if he was being serious or not. “I don’t know about you, but an all nighter of sex wipes me the hell out.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “I’m probably going right back to my tent to crash.” It indirectly answered Sawyer’s request of whether they actually could stay and hide from the world.

“Sooner we get back,” Sawyer said, expression suddenly fallen and resigned, “sooner we can do just that.”

They returned to the beach, staggering their entrances to avoid suspicion. No one knew what they had done. No one knew they had not been in their tents all night, sleeping. No one except Juliet.

She saw Jack and thought nothing of it. But when Sawyer came walking across the beach and to his tent some fifteen minutes later, she knew. He could never overcome a heat that quickly, not alone.

Juliet said nothing to Jack. The look she gave him, the knowing look that bore into him with heavy disappointment, said it all. She was the lone confidant of their now guarded secret.

+

Jack stood outside Sawyer’s tent. The dim light of a lamp showed through tarp holes and smudged window glass.

It had been three days since they walked out of the jungle, and outside of a few very enthusiastic games of ping pong, they had not interacted very much. There were quick kisses when no one was looking, longer ones when they crossed paths while running errands in the woods, but there had been no discussions.

And that was why Jack stood awkwardly outside Sawyer’s tent. He cleared his throat, an audible warning, then he ducked underneath the blanket and stepped inside.

Sawyer was reading. He had on those large glasses. They were endearingly ridiculous. He lowered his book and smiled. “Hey,” he said, then, “my doorbell busted again?”

“Must be a bad wiring job,” Jack joked, feeling bashful. “Hey,” he added in greeting, addressing Sawyer’s own call of it.

“What’s the visit for?” Sawyer asked, acting as though there was not and never had been anything intimate between them, as if it were not so obviously a social call.

Jack sat on the edge of the blanket. Sawyer sat up, putting his book aside, removing his glasses.

“Just wanted to check on you,” Jack said, “see how you were doing.”

“I’m all right,” Sawyer said. “Just sittin’ here wishin’ I hadn’t gone and given Sun my only pregnancy test.” He sighed with great exaggeration. “But that’s what generosity gets you, I suppose.” Jack had to admit that a definitive answer would be nice, but they would have to wait the old fashion way. “As for me myself, can’t complain just yet,” he said with a shrug. “But then it has only been a couple days. Gimme a few months and I’m sure I’ll be fit to chew your ear off.”

Jack chuckled. “I can’t wait to hear it,” he sarcastically replied. But there was still a smile on him. He meant it.

They sat in the flicker of Sawyer’s lamp. He could obviously tell Jack had something else to say, so he did not interrupt the silence with whatever was going on in his own head.

“You know I’ll look after you,” Jack said, “right?”

“Yeah,” Sawyer told him, no hesitation. “Yeah, Jack, I know that. You can’t turn it off. Even if I told you to, I know you wouldn’t... couldn’t,” he snickered, “haven’t.”

“Just don’t doubt me,” Jack said. “I promise I’ll do what’s right by you and the... and the baby.”

“Where’s this comin’ from?” Sawyer asked, and it was clear he expected another storm to flash above them or a branch to break below.

“It’s nothing,” Jack said. “But you know how things can get on this island. I just wanted to make sure you know that I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

“What aren’t you tellin’ me?” Sawyer questioned, too smart to be fed lies.

“It’s the Others, I guess,” Jack said, hanging his head. “You’re pregnant now, and if history shows us anything, that makes you a possible target.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sawyer said. “Right now you and I are the only ones who know. And I hope I didn’t make the wrong choice in trusting you.”

“No,” Jack grinned. “No, I haven’t... told anyone. But I just... I wanted you to know that I’ll do all I can to protect you. Call it alpha pigheadedness, but I will.” He reached a hand out and patted Sawyer on the leg. “I’ll let you get back to your book.”

Jack put a knee underneath himself and made to stand up when Sawyer exclaimed, “What, that’s it?” Jack gave him a puzzled look. “You come into my tent late at night under heavy promise of sex—”

“Heavy promise?”

“—and now we ain’t even gonna fool around none? What the hell, Doc?”

Jack smiled and sat back down. “My apologies.”

“Damn right you should be sorry,” Sawyer said. “I been datin’ you three days now and I ain’t seen hardly any of those perks I was told about. Sure as hell haven’t gotten any of that sex I heard mentioned.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized again. He turned his body and pushed Sawyer slowly back down onto the blanket. “So sorry.” He climbed on top of him. “Very, very sorry.” He bent his head low and kissed him. “Promising to protect you though, that was a very boyfriend thing to do, wasn’t it?”

“You’re not my boyfriend. I’m just dating you,” he said, knowing that the only distinction was the title.

Jack let him keep the divide. If a relationship between them was made easier by Sawyer not focusing too hard on the fact they were both men, it was little effort on Jack’s part to facilitate him.

They kissed again, a deeper one whose intention could not be denied.

Jack loved that long blond hair of Sawyer’s. He ran his fingers through it, tangling himself in the strands.

“Mmm, mm,” Sawyer hummed into the kiss, tagging out momentarily. Jack let up so he could talk. “I’m still kinda sore, so let’s not go all the way.” He gave Jack a quick kiss in the corner of his lip. “We’ll just play downstairs patty-cake. How’s that?”

“Fine by me.”

“Unless you wanna switch positions,” he added.

Jack lifted his head up— ready to grasp at an excuse, or stammer through one— and saw that Sawyer was grinning at him, a taunting smirk.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m just messin’ with ya. I know you’re an alpha, and I know we don’t have any lube for that.” He kissed Jack again, a little nip. “Another time.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “another time.” He was willing to commit to submission for Sawyer, but he was also glad to postpone it. “You should take your pants off.”

“Don’t tell me what to do when I’m not in heat,” Sawyer said, but he was already reaching between them to work on his zipper.

Jack pushed down with his hips, rocking against him, rubbing against him through their clothes.

“Hold on,” Sawyer said, getting an idea. “Let’s try something.” Before that something could be questioned, Sawyer grabbed onto Jack’s arms and pushed him over on his back, half in the sand. He rolled on top. “That’s better.” He pushed his hips down, taking control, mimicking the aimless thrusts Jack had. “How’s it feel, Jack, being the one on the bottom?” It was a simple, curious question meant to gauge his reaction.

“I don’t know,” Jack answered. He hated it. He wanted to push Sawyer down onto his back again for being so bold. That was his first impulse. But when it passed, when the anger was gone, when loss of control no longer felt like he was falling, he tried to decipher his second response. “Relieved,” he said, thinking it was the closest word he knew to the emotion. “I feel like I can let go for once... like I don’t have to worry.”

Sawyer grinned at him. His dimples caught the low light of the lamp, casting deep shadows of contentment. “That’s good,” he said. “That’s good, Jack.” Sawyer laid down over him and whispered in his ear, quiet but strong and evocative. “‘Cause I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

Jack felt his whole body shiver with a chill, despite the tropical weather, despite the heat between their two bodies. “Please.” He was not sure what he was asking for.

Sawyer laughed. “I haven’t even started yet,” he said, “but I’ll make you think ‘please’, boy.”

Jack wanted that. Not always. He did not think he could make himself do it always, but giving up control, for one night, it felt like taking a break after a run— necessary, healthy.

Sawyer sat back across his legs. He made quick work of Jack’s belt, pulling it out of the buckle and holes like he was going for a record. Then he undid the pants beneath and tried to pull those and his underwear down. Jack lifted his hips up as much as he could, and he moved himself back onto the blanket before dropping down beneath Sawyer again.

A strong hand with long fingers closed around his cock, making him moan. Sawyer chuckled. “Well, ain’t you just a handful and a half?”

He had a way of making Jack feel embarrassed about his size.

“Take your pants off,” Jack said, craving reciprocity.

The hand squeezed and not for pleasure. “I’m callin’ the shots right now, Jack, alpha,” Sawyer told him. The way he said it, ‘alpha,’ had unspoken implication. ‘My alpha,’ his voice said, but his words did not say. “Take your shirt off,” Sawyer ordered.

Jack sat up and grabbed the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side. For once, he was the one completely nude below while Sawyer was still clothed above.

“Mmm,” the man commented, liking what he saw. “You ain’t a half bad lookin’ guy, Jack.” It was the greatest compliment Sawyer could pay another man on his appearance.

“I want to see you, please,” Jack said, sounding much more subservient in his request that time. It worked.

Sawyer took his shirt off and dropped it over his suitcase, up off the sandy floor. He finished undoing his pants. “I coulda drawn this out forever,” he told Jack. “You’re lucky bein’ pregnant makes me horny.”

“I don’t think it works that fast,” Jack chuckled. “That part’s not until the end.”

“Don’t be a damn doctor,” Sawyer said. He nudged his pants down while trying to keep from raising off Jack completely. “I don’t need a doctor right now.”

“What do you need?” he asked.

“This,” Sawyer grabbed Jack’s hand, “here,” he placed it over his cock, hard already.

“Yes, sir.” His obedience made Sawyer smirk.

Fully bare of clothes, knowing where the other was and where hands were meant to go, Sawyer reached over Jack’s head and dimmed the lantern. “I got neighbors and windows,” he said. No one was out that time of night, but caution was never a bad idea, even when it arrived late, after they were already naked and all over each other.

“Good idea,” Jack said.

Sawyer kissed him. Then they helped each other out in the dark, their hands moving up and down, first slow, then quicker, but always in time with each other, as if working in tandem was something they had practiced.

It was different to hold such a smaller cock in his hand, but Jack could not deny how much easier it was to jerk off. He did not envy Sawyer’s almost clumsy attempt transitioning to his.

“Such a big boy,” Sawyer panted in his ear. “What do you even need all this for?”

“For needy omegas,” Jack replied. “For a beautiful... amazing... needy omega. I have it so I can make him feel good when he needs me to.”

“Mm, good answer,” Sawyer moaned. And Jack could tell how much he liked it. He could tell how Sawyer was perhaps a little possessive as well, regarding Jack’s cock as only his, only for him.

As a reward for that good answer, Sawyer moved his hand down. He gripped Jack’s knot gently, tightening and then releasing, like a heartbeat. That was all it took for Jack. It was too good and he came.

Through that rush, he managed to keep his wits about him just long enough to finish Sawyer off, rubbing him frantically to the end.

Sawyer grunted as he collapsed on him, thoroughly spent. Jack stroked his back tenderly with his clean hand.

“You can stop anytime now,” Sawyer told him with a laugh, some silly, post-coital giggle. He kept his hand between them, holding tightly to Jack’s knot as he continued to dribble small amounts of come.

“It stops after a minute,” Jack said embarrassedly, “but the... swelling takes awhile to go down.”

Sawyer hissed a mocking laugh at him. “Gotta clear your damn schedule just to beat off. Almost don’t seem worth it, bein’ an alpha.”

“Hey,” Jack said in agreement, “there have been plenty of times I’ve envied betas and omegas just for that, especially when I was a teenager.”

“Looky there,” Sawyer grinned, “finally got me an advantage.”

Jack continued to rub his back, loving the smooth, tight skin beneath his fingers. “You don’t have to hold it the whole time,” he said considerately, kissing Sawyer’s cheek.

“Does it feel good if I do?” He kept a tender grip, releasing and squeezing.

“Yeah,” Jack groaned, “but you don’t have to.”

He did. And it felt good for the entire duration, mentally and physically. It felt good to know that they could be considerate to each other’s needs like that. Jack thought that maybe Sawyer had been wrong in what he said when he agreed to date him. Maybe their relationship would not end as a trainwreck.

They laid in comfortable silence, kissing occasionally, lazily caressing any part of the other that their hand could easily reach.

When Jack’s knot went down, Sawyer finally pulled his hand away.

Jack slowly reversed their positions, putting himself back on top. But it was not from dominance. It was his thanks. He rummaged through Sawyer’s suitcase until he found a rag. Then he wet it with a bottle of water and began washing his omega.

They had barely sweat. Even with the humid night, the single realization of pleasure was nothing compared to their usual sessions.

Jack wiped down Sawyer’s abdomen, cleaning the mess they had made.

“Hand me my pants,” Sawyer asked. “God knows we’re a people of many problems. If somebody yells ‘fire’ or ‘attack’ or... ‘aliens are here to rescue us’, I don’t want either of us runnin’ outta here buck ass nude and hoppin’ into our denims.”

Jack gave him his pants, and then he washed himself and slipped into his own.

Sawyer laid down again, wearing pants but no shirt and comfortably satisfied with that half-absence.

Jack watched him laying there, slated and happy in the blue moonlight that fought through dingy airline windows. He dipped his head low over the man and his exposed belly. He alternated between kissing Sawyer’s stomach and simply laying his head there, knowing that beneath his cheek was that microscopic change they wanted in their lives.

“You’ll be a good daddy, Jack,” Sawyer told him, guessing his thoughts but knowing his fears. “Wherever your old man is, you’re gonna show him how it’s done.”

Jack could never properly thank Sawyer for his thoughtful confidence. There were no words to express his gratitude for that blind, baseless faith he had in him.

“Thank you.” How insufficient it was.

Jack laid down. He turned Sawyer over to face him and they rested side by side, sharing the power with neither having the upper hand.

Jack had every expectation of being kicked to the curb once the tender moment played itself out. Instead, shockingly, Sawyer rolled over in place, remaining in Jack’s arms. He pressed his back against him, burrowing into a closer embrace. Jack’s hand rested against his stomach, and Sawyer patted it before laying his own on top.

“Mm,” he yawned, “night.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, hoping his voice did not betray his surprise at being allowed to stay. “Yeah, good night.”

He dared not sleep. As Sawyer said, there might be an emergency. He could not imagine the scandal if they both ran out of Sawyer’s tent in the middle of the night, shirtless. He would not allow their fledgling relationship to be revealed on anyone’s terms but their own.

Sawyer slept peacefully, contently. Jack held him and let him rest. But he himself would not sleep.

He laid awake for hours, thinking about many things. Occasionally he would press against Sawyer’s stomach, or he would rub it, imagining their growing future. He almost dozed off several times, and when the worst and longest blink came in the wee small hours, he knew he needed to leave.

When Jack removed his arm from around Sawyer’s stomach it roused him, but he refused to wake completely. It was not until Jack almost finished dressing that he realized what was happening.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Sawyer mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Back to my tent,” Jack said. He knelt down for a kiss then finished buckling his belt. “I don’t want to risk falling asleep and letting everyone see me walk out in the morning.”

“Fine,” Sawyer conceded, “let’s go to your tent. Unlike you, I can wake up in a timely manner.” He groped around for his shirt and when he turned back Jack was grinning at him. “What?”

“You like to cuddle, don’t you?”

“No,” Sawyer denied, treating it as an insult. “I don’t like being woke up in the middle of the night either. So if we gotta do this, I’d rather it just be your tent.”

“It’s cute,” Jack said. “And that you like to be the little spoon that’s- that’s really sweet actually.” It was. It told so much on Sawyer’s insecurities and hidden vulnerabilities that he liked to be held, protected, shielded.

“You know what,” Sawyer scoffed, “you can go spoon yourself.”

“Just stay here,” Jack said. “You’ll be more comfortable in your own tent.”

“Yes,” he drawled sarcastically, “my pile of sand is much, much more comfortable than all the other piles of sand.”

“We’ll figure something else out,” Jack promised, “a better system. Maybe I’ll move my tent closer. Or, eventually, we tell everyone. Five-and-a-half weeks left.” He sighed wearily thinking about that inevitability. He knew they would both put it off for as long as possible, stretching every hour of every day. “But for now why don’t you just go back to sleep? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Sawyer stood, tilting his head under the low ceiling. “But I’ll follow you out anyway. I gotta pee.”

Jack laughed. “You are really romantic, you know.” He grabbed Sawyer by the back of the neck and they shared a goodbye kiss. Every instance felt like practice, a natural progression where experience was earned. It was a little more natural every time, a little more right. Already it was becoming second nature, a cautious indulgence no more. There was comfort and excitement in that. There was familiarity, a certain domesticity— or their own version of it.

They left the tent. Jack went one way. Sawyer went another.

Despite saying they would meet up later, Jack did not see a trace of Sawyer the entire day.

+

Sawyer wandered back to camp like a zombie. His mind was a colorless swirl of consequence, trying to celebrate the revenge he had seized, but quickly he found that the accomplished feeling he long anticipated was vacant, missing.

His bare feet hurt and bled, and that pain kept him tethered to reality. He had a mission and that also helped. His hand gripped tightly around the tape recorder he held.

Juliet was a spy. That was unsurprising. She conspired with the Others to observe and test anyone in their camp who could be pregnant, himself included. That was... not surprising either. In fact, it was exactly what Jack said would happen. But it was certainly not what he needed. He felt tired, bone tired, and physically ill, but his mission drove him on.

In spite of the camp’s hesitance, Sawyer still trusted Jack, even though Jack trusted Juliet. So when he got back, he searched Jack out through the tall grass that fenced the beach. But he was missing.

Sawyer went with his Plan B, the only other person he was certain distrusted Juliet as much as he did.

When Sayid walked close enough to where he was, Sawyer called out. Then he led him an adequate length from camp, a good distance for covert secrets.

He played Sayid the tape. There were many things to be learned from it, all important.

“She mentions you by name,” Sayid remarked. He was deep in concentration, trying to decide what to do with all the information, but he stopped on that one facet.

“Yes, I know that.”

Sawyer rewound the tape. He played it and then rewound it more, searching for the specific part.

“...before they got here. I’m still working on getting samples from the others. I should have Ford and Austen’s soon. I’ll report back when—”

“Why is it she mentions you by name?” Sayid asked, as if he could not guess.

“Because I had sex with Kate,” Sawyer said, telling a lie by using the truth. “It’s ‘Ford and Austen’, not ‘Ford’ _and_  ‘Austen’.” Sayid raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious of any number of things in those two short sentences. “What,” Sawyer scoffed, “you think an omega can’t get a girl pregnant?”

“Are you an omega?” Sayid replied casually. “I had not noticed.”

“Bull,” Sawyer objected. “And at a certain point the lie’s just insulting.”

“Too true,” Sayid agreed. “Perhaps we should both stop insulting one another.”

Sawyer’s shoulders dropped as he lost his pride and temper. While Sayid was the human equivalent of a lie detector, Sawyer did not want to risk anyone else seeing through his overcompensation and guessing just why his name was in Juliet’s report. He looked ashamedly at the ground and held the tape recorder out to Sayid. “Can you erase it?” he asked. “Can you take my name out and there not be a big space of dead air?”

Sayid took a deep breath, contemplating his options. “If we had scotch tape I could cut the section and piece it back together. But unfortunately we do not.”

“Well, think harder than scotch tape,” Sawyer demanded. “She’s already got the damn Others playin’ the ‘Is he or isn’t he?’ game. I don’t need our group thinkin’ it too.”

Sayid turned the tape recorder over in his hands, studying it. “Even if I could,” he said, “you’re asking me to alter evidence against Juliet. Which is more important to you, your pride or her removal from our camp?” Sawyer actually had to consider his answer. “Everyone will know eventually.”

“Everyone will know what?” Sawyer spat, just daring him to elaborate. “There ain’t nothin’ to know.”

Sayid sighed. He was considerate— or self-preserving— enough not to argue the matter. “Erase it,” he advised. “Record over your name with silence. It will only be missing a beat, and everyone will be too preoccupied with what they are hearing to think about what they have missed. They won’t give it a second thought.” He handed the tape recorder back.

“Thanks,” Sawyer said.

“But do hurry,” Sayid told him. “I would reveal her as soon as possible.”

“Jack can’t save her anymore,” Sawyer stated smugly.

It was a horrible, though understandable, oversight that Sawyer did not think to check the reverse side of the tape. And when their camp met to reveal all— Juliet, the evidence against her, Naomi— he played the first side for them without hesitation. Then Jack came upon their huddle and with him Juliet. She said to turn the tape over and Sawyer complied.

“We won’t have time to run Ford or Austen’s sample, so if you determine that they or anyone else is pregnant, mark their tents and we’ll take them too.”

Sawyer wanted to scream and curse and break the tape.

Well, everyone knew, or they knew to suspect at least. Fantastic.

The saving grace was that everything transpired closely enough to what Sayid said. People were too distracted by what was going on, by what Jack was saying, to give his situation much thought. Of course, that did not mean the gossip mill would not run as soon as there was time for a breeze to blow it.

No one spoke to Sawyer about it— not even Kate— and he was not in a mood to seek Jack out. His only proof that his name had actually been spoken on that tape (and not just his paranoid head) was the sympathetic shrug Sayid sent his way as they all broke apart for the night.

+

Jack had them out early the next morning. A straight line walked behind him like ducklings, curious about his plan.

Juliet followed closely, holding onto his promise of protection. However, she courteously fell back as Sawyer broke the formation apart and climbed to the front.

“Hey Doc!” he called.

Jack heard footsteps crashing through the grass until Sawyer caught up with him. They were far enough from the group to have a conversation, if they kept it quiet.

“Yeah?” Jack asked. He looked forward, keeping his eyes on the straight path he led.

“All that crap you were sayin’ the other night,” Sawyer said, sounding displeased, “talking about protecting me from the Others, goin’ off like it was some damn hypothetical, you already knew what they were plannin’.” It was almost phrased like a question, but it was not one. He knew.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed. “Juliet told me the night after... the night after your heat.”

“And so you just sat on it?” Sawyer sneered, outraged. “There’s protecting me and then there’s keeping me in the dark. You remember what happened last time you kept somethin’ from me, Jack? You remember how you didn’t think it was important I know this island’s zero tolerance policy on babies? How’d that work out?”

“You were looking for a reason to crucify Juliet,” Jack defended. “I didn’t wanna hand it to you.”

Sawyer put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and shoved, not enough to knock him over, just enough to convey his displeasure. “No more damn secrets,” he ordered.

“All right,” Jack agreed. “No more secrets.” He nodded his head, pleased with the new policy. “You wanna tell me where you got that tape recorder from?”

Sawyer said nothing.

“Oh, come on,” Jack said, arrogant and smug. “I thought there were no more secrets, James.”

“I’ll tell you,” Sawyer decided, “but I ain’t tellin’ you yet. It’s my secret and it don’t affect you none.”

“Who gave it to you?” he pressed.

“You listen here, Jack,” Sawyer said. He looked straight ahead. Somehow it gave his words greater impact, strength, and intimidation. “I ain’t one of these dogs that whimpers and whines whenever you get the crazy eyes. You can ask me ‘til you’re blue in the face, but I’d like to think you know me well enough by now that I ain’t tellin’ you unless I’m ready. Yeah, I got a name of who gave it to me, but there’s a story that goes with it. And I know you won’t have one without the other. But that story’s mine, Jack, and you don’t get it ‘til I give it to you.”

“What happened to you?” Jack asked. Sawyer’s cold demeanor concerned him. He was distant and distracted. He was stressed and traumatized. “Sawyer, what happened to you? I noticed you were gone. Don’t think I didn’t.”

“Leave it alone, Jack.” It was a begging request.

Jack wanted to stop walking. He wanted to look into Sawyer’s eyes and ask him what was wrong, what horrible thing had made him so despondent. But they had an audience. Behind them was a group of people that no doubt grew suspicious any time he and Sawyer spoke amongst themselves. The time of their three month long secret was drawing to a close. But, for Sawyer’s sake, Jack would not expedite that ending prematurely.

“You’ll tell me?” he asked. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why do you care?” Sawyer questioned, quiet and confused, so confused.

“You know why,” Jack said. “We’re close. We’re... dating. And whatever this is, it’s gotten you really worked up. I’m worried.”

“I’ll tell you, Jack,” he said. “Once the drama’s died down and we can take a breath, I’ll tell you. But not before.”

“Thank you.”

Jack peaked over his shoulder. Too many people were purposefully not looking at them, despite it being the best direction to face when walking. That told him too much. He dared not break the news to Sawyer.

He turned back around.

“I think there’s something else neither of us is talking about,” Jack said. “And being quiet about it won’t make it go away.”

“What’s that?” Sawyer asked, and Jack could not blame him for needing clarification. They had many irons in the fire that needed to be pulled.

“Kate,” he said. And he gave a moment’s silence so they could each plan what they wanted to say in that conversation. “You had sex with her.”

“I thought I was dyin’.”

“She could be pregnant,” Jack stated. “Yeah, it does usually take a few tries for an omega, and yeah, you only did it the one time,” he huffed, “that I know of. But it’s still a possibility.”

“Am I supposed to confirm it was just the once so your fur will stop stickin’ up?” How he hated when Jack was jealous and possessive. He sighed. “Yeah, only once.”

“Good,” Jack said. “It’s good that you... It minimizes the chance.”

Sawyer hung his head. He looked defeated, hit from every side, every angle. “Either she is or she isn’t,” he said. “We can’t change it.”

“Look,” Jack said tiredly, “I know you want a kid, but... two at the same time? That’s—”

“What are you expectin’ me to say, Jack?” Sawyer snapped. “Yeah, I hope to God she ain’t pregnant. Yeah, I hope I only got the one kid to worry about right now. And yes, I would rather not be pregnant the same time as my friend and potential baby mama. Any other items I didn’t address to your satisfaction?” Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. “Good. And while we’re parked here, I didn’t think you’d be one of those alphas who don’t want me havin’ any kids but yours.”

“I’m not,” Jack swore. “I wouldn’t—”

“Shut up.”

Sawyer kept in step with him for half a minute longer. Then he began drifting back into the line.

They reached the place where Rousseau was waiting. Jack told everyone his plan to booby-trap certain tents with dynamite, three of them for maximum damage. He had put much thought into it because, like he honestly told Sawyer, he wanted to protect him— and their child.

The bravest among them volunteered to carry the crates of dynamite back to camp. Sawyer tried to grab a box, but Jack took it before he could.

“I got it,” Jack said, carefully raising it up to chest height. “You fall back or walk ahead. If this goes off I don’t want it taking you out too.”

“Stop trying to protect me,” Sawyer hissed.

“No,” Jack said. He could not and he would not. Sawyer knew that, and he could get insulted by it all he wanted, but it would not change anything.

Sawyer took a quick look around them and leaned in closer. Casually he threatened, “If you put a white rock outside my tent, I’m gonna beat you in the head with it.”

“They’re expecting your tent to be marked,” Jack said.

“Except they don’t know which one’s mine, so why’s it matter?” he argued. “Mark some woman’s.”

“Everyone heard your name on that tape,” Jack said. “If I play favoritism on this, it doesn’t negate suspicion, Sawyer. It draws it.”

“I think it sounds pretty damn typical that I wouldn’t let you do it,” he replied. “So you pick a woman.”

Sawyer walked away. Jack would not mark his tent. He would be a considerate boyfriend to the demand. And it was true what Sawyer said. Circumstances be damned; he would never allow Jack to publicly mark him as potentially pregnant.

+

Sawyer walked at the back of the line, far from Jack, as instructed. The man was a dot all the way up there, carrying dynamite and righteousness. Sayid carried another small box, and Rousseau had a third. The mollycoddled ‘civilians’, of which he was a participant, trailed behind at a safe distance.

It was a pathetically transparent act when Desmond slowed his pace, ambling down the line until he was marching in step beside Sawyer.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Yeah, howdy,” Sawyer replied. They walked on, neither talking for a minute. “How’s those suppressants treatin’ you?”

“Working like a charm,” Desmond said with a bright smile. “I feel like I can relax for the first time in... years actually. My thanks again to you, Sawyer.”

“Don’t mention it... really.”

“How’s life without them?”

Maybe a few people suspected, but only Desmond knew for certain when Sawyer’s heat had come and gone— and just whom he had spent it with.

“Just dandy,” he grumbled.

“So did you, uh... Did you...” Desmond stammered, cautious about the liberties he had in their affiliation with one another. “Are you...”

“Yes, we did,” Sawyer said, finding it somewhat easy to confide in another omega. “And it’s a little too soon to tell, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he agreed. Then he nodded ahead at their group. “You and Jack though, what’s the story there?”

“Need to know basis,” Sawyer said. He was not even sure he knew. Dating was a mostly foreign concept to him. He was certain they were doing it wrong though.

“Are you happy?”

Sawyer did not know anymore. A week ago, a baby was all he wanted. It was such a simple dream. People did it all the time. But pregnancies that turned on the person? Him killing a man? That exhumation of his past in a time when he thought he might be able to move on? Making his baby become child to a murderer twice over?

Was he happy?

“What kinda question’s that?”

“An innocent one,” Desmond assured him. “Call it my living through you. I always wanted to give in. Maybe a part of me always will. I just needed to know how it feels on the other side.”

“Uh, it...” He did not know. The happiness he once felt, the excitement, it was fading. Was he happy? Did he want, or deserve, a life with a baby in it? “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, Scotty, I’m happy.”

Desmond smiled at him. He had a wide smile and it was almost infectious. “That’s good, fantastic. I’m glad to hear it.”

It was odd to lie for someone else’s benefit.

At the moment, Sawyer was ambivalent, perhaps apathetic, to his own life. Happiness was a concept he did not deserve just yet.

+

They rigged the camp with the dynamite. And they left three shooters behind to blow it and the Others all to Hell. Everyone not among those three packed a bag and filled a water bottle. The entire camp began marching to the radio tower, determined to stop its broadcast and begin their own, praying Naomi’s boat would rescue them.

They walked all day. And at night they watched the distant fireworks display, insufficient in its count. Only two of the three stacks of dynamite went off. Jack tried to invalidate everyone’s fears, lying, saying their men on the beach were fine. They moved on.

When night became too dark to see, they stopped. An overnight camp was made, but no fires were lit. Their current position was a secret thing that they would not give away so carelessly.

Sawyer sat in the dark, leaning with his back against a tree.

He never questioned if Jack would sneak up beside him. He only wondered how long it would take.

An hour, that was the cautious window the man gave himself. Most of their group was not used to walking so far. They were exhausted, and an hour was all it took for most of them to pass out asleep.

Jack sat down by him and Sawyer was not surprised. He did not move nor even turn his head.

“You ready to tell me yet?” Jack asked. “You ready to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“We outta the woods yet?” Sawyer replied. They were not. They had barely clawed their way to the middle of the plot. “Still too much goin’ on, Jack. You don’t need me addin’ to everything spinning around in that damn head of yours.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” Jack said.

He could not know that. And he was wrong to think it. Telling would only make Sawyer feel ashamed— and pitied. He did not want either emotion at the moment.

Sawyer raised himself off his tree. He pulled his head from its bark and rested it instead on Jack’s shoulder. The man said nothing, and Sawyer was grateful for it. Jack put an arm around him, and he was grateful for that too.

“Gettin’ off the island, huh?” Sawyer spoke.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Jack said in reply. His smile was an audible thing. He was so proud of himself.

“Yeah.” Sawyer nodded his head. It rubbed his cheek against Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah, you did.”

They sat in silence. Jack’s thoughts were hopeful, happy. Sawyer’s were hopeless, dour.

“So we sail out of here,” he said, narrating a fairytale. “And we get back to LA. Rent an apartment with two bedrooms, one for us and one for junior. And your mama, your friends, they welcome me with open arms. I fit right into your life.” Every sentence was a question.

Jack answered as he thought he should, as he lied to himself was true. “Yeah, of course.”

He did not understand that the questions were not looking for confirmation. They ridiculed the absurdity of the idea.

Sawyer laughed at him. He sat up straight, taking his head from Jack’s shoulder. Jack did not remove his embracing arm. “So you just drag out some redneck omega with a criminal record? A no good son of a bitch who was only on that plane ‘cause he was being deported instead of incarcerated?”

“I’m not dragging you anywhere, James.” He was mum on all other parts, important as they were. “It’s the plan we made, the plan you agreed to.”

“Yeah, well,” Sawyer muttered quietly, guiltily, “plans change, don’t they?”

“They don’t have to.” He did not want them to. Jack was spoiled, used to getting his way like that. “Nothing has to change, James. Nothing has changed. We are getting off this island, and I _will_  take care of you.”

“You don’t get it,” Sawyer argued. Jack was so ignorant to how the world really worked. “You think tellin’ the camp’s a bad idea? You think they’d have a hard time believin’ we did it on purpose? Well, I got news for you, amigo, ain’t no one in your little family circle or social ties gonna be happy to see me comin’. And even if they were,” he cackled at the farfetched idea, “what makes you think I’m happy disappearing into your life? You think that’s what I want, Jack? You think I want the mortgage and the little white fence and the 2.5 screamin’ brats? ‘Cause I know it’s what you want. It’s simple and perfect and just what you know you’re supposed to do. But have I ever, even once, made you think that life’s for me, that I would want that?”

Jack finally dropped his arm from around Sawyer’s shoulder. “You wanted a baby,” he said, defending the lifestyle he thought had to go with it.

“And I got my baby,” Sawyer said. “But you’re a goddamn fool if you think it gets simple after that. We can date on the island, Jack, because there’s nothing to stop us. Out there, though, out there life moves on. If I go with you that path only leads one direction. And I told you a long time ago, I don’t ever wanna be somebody’s little wife.”

He could tell Jack wanted to keep discussing the matter. But what Jack did not know was that doing so could only make it worse. Sawyer stopped him before he got the chance.

“Get some sleep, Jack. You got a lot of fool’s hope to spin tomorrow.”

Jack complied, smart enough to know that otherwise Sawyer would only be riled to an argument, if anything. “We’re not done here.”

“Never thought we were.”

“And I’m doing this to get us saved,” he said, “but now I’m also gonna do it to clear up this whole mess. Because afterwards you are going to tell me what the hell is wrong with you.” It was no longer a request for the sake of sorting out Sawyer’s feelings. Jack had caught the scent of something he was desperate to unearth. And he was a stubborn son of a bitch.

“Goodnight Jack.” It dismissed him and mocked his serious proclamation.

“Goodnight... James.”

+

The next morning everyone replenished their water supply in a stream. Sawyer filled his bottle far from the others, needing every moment of quiet and solitude he could steal.

Kate disturbed that.

She came upon him, saying what he already knew: they needed to go back to the beach and save their friends. He did not want to go back, not with her. Not only was she a target of the Others, but like Jack, she was too finely tuned to his emotions. She knew something was wrong.

“Every since you got that tape from Locke,” Kate said, “it’s like you’ve been sleepwalking.” She was not wrong. “You don’t care about our friends, fine. But it’s like you don’t care about anything anymore.” Again, she was not wrong.

Sawyer said nothing to her. He tried to leave without a word said, but that only upset her more.

“You know,” she stated, “they sent Juliet to check out Sun. But she was there to check and see if I’m pregnant too— if _we're_  pregnant, James.”

She thought she was hitting the nail right on its head. Even if she was, it was only one little piece of steel struck down into an entire board.

“Jack said you weren’t,” she went on. Sawyer wondered when exactly loose lipped Jack had said that. “So I’m guessing your problem’s about whether or not I am.”

He stepped out of the stream and onto the solid ground beside her. “Well,” he said, “let’s hope you’re not.”

Sawyer left her standing there, knowing she had no idea to the depths he hoped she was not. His own inconvenience of two children aside, the island was not a good place to be pregnant.

+

“I’m going back.”

Jack stopped and turned around. The trail of people continued past him. It was Sawyer that had spoken, some twenty feet behind. “What?”

“I’m going back to the beach,” he said.

“No way.” Jack shook his head. “We keep moving.” Foolishly, he believed that would be the end of it. He tried to turn back into the line.

“I ain’t asking permission.” When had he ever?

Jack’s face fell. He could see the obstinate expression Sawyer wore. He already made up his mind. Jack walked to Sawyer, and Sawyer walked to him. It was not a conversation to be shouted.

“No,” Jack said. He shook his head again. He would not let it happen.

“Look, you got a job to do here,” Sawyer said. “I ain’t gonna stand in your way of doin’ it. But you sure as hell don’t need me.”

“You have a job too, James,” Jack reminded him, as if he had forgotten. He nodded once, a quick gesture at Sawyer’s stomach. “What do you think you’re gonna get done, alone and unarmed?” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “You’d be giving them exactly what they want.”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll go with him,” Kate volunteered. Jack worried over how much of their discussion she heard.

“No,” Sawyer was quick to deny.

“Twenty minutes ago, you weren’t even interested in going,” Kate said, “and now all of a sudden you’re telling Jack that I—”

“I didn’t want to go with you,” Sawyer said. He dropped his head. Jack watched him say what he could no longer deny in the conversation. “They want us, Kate— us and Sun. Why you wanna make it so damn easy for ’em? Why serve us both up on a platter?”

“Exactly,” Jack said, using Sawyer’s own logic against him. “Sawyer, this is insane. You’d be walking right to them. Not to mention it’s a suicide mission without guns.”

“I know where there are some guns,” Juliet said, another eavesdropper to their discussion, another enabler for Sawyer. “There’s a hidden cache a couple of miles from here. I can take us back to the beach on a route past it.”

“Juliet,” Jack said, “you don’t have to do that.” He did not want her to, and he certainly did not want Sawyer to go with her.

“Yeah, Jack,” she replied, “I kinda do.”

And that was it. Jack lost and he knew it. “Kate,” he said, “go, uh... go on ahead and help... everyone.” He dragged a hand down his face, feeling beaten down and exhausted. But for once in her life Kate did obey, and that was something. “Juliet—”

“I’ll start towards the beach,” she said, knowing what he wanted. She looked at Sawyer. “I’ll walk slowly so you can catch up.”

She left. The line of people finally ended and she went in the opposite direction of them, leaving Jack and Sawyer standing there alone.

“You know I’m only allowing this because I know any effort to talk you out of it is pointless,” Jack said. “And also because tying you up and carrying you feels extreme.” They chuckled at the joke.

“That’s good.” Sawyer nodded. “Maybe you know me a little bit after all.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Sawyer replied knowingly. There was a good chance they would both break that promise.

Jack wanted to kiss him goodbye and for good luck. Sawyer looked like he wanted the same. The high tensions of the night before had gone away or settled for the moment. But even though a kiss was what they wanted, there were still far too many people around, too many witnesses.

Sawyer stuck his hand out to shake. Jack huffed a laugh and stepped forward, embracing him instead. Hugs were acceptable enough. Sawyer patted the imposing bulk of his backpack and they pulled apart within a decent, appropriate timeframe.

“I’m serious, be careful,” Jack pleaded. “Shoot from a distance and don’t take any stupid chances.”

“I know, I know,” Sawyer muttered with put-upon, obligatory annoyance. “I’m takin’ stupid chances for two now.”

+

A day ago Juliet had been Sawyer’s enemy. Today she was a partner that he reluctantly accepted.

“So, you screwin’ Jack yet?” he asked her. The question served two purposes: he got to be rude and he got to negate suspicion that he was doing just that. It did not work.

“No,” she replied. “Are you?”

He grinned at her forwardness. Sometimes it was refreshing when people took off the kid gloves, even if he hated the topic. “Look,” he said, “why don’t we just stop playin’ pretend?”

“I’m not playing,” Juliet said. “You’re playing.”

“How long have you known?” He needed to know if she was simply good at reading signs, or if Jack went off and betrayed him.

“The morning after,” she said.

“Jack—”

“Told me nothing,” Juliet said, sparing him that sense of treachery. “The two of you told me you were going into heat. At the time, I thought Jack would make the right call, tie you up.” She did not sound too disappointed. She understood somehow. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for... two days maybe. So when you walked onto the beach that morning... that’s when I knew, James.”

“Will it still happen?” he asked, afraid of the answer. “Will I still...” He shook his head. “I’m an omega. Your little friend with the winning personality, he acted like I’d be fine.”

“Ben told you exactly as much as he wanted you to know,” Juliet said. “If he has any belief that omegas will fare better, it’s unfounded.” She turned her head to look at him as she walked on slowly. “My advice, my... plea? Get off the island. Unlike Ben, I don’t like to gamble with people’s lives.”

“That’s some big talk comin’ from the woman whose job it was to help kidnap me.”

“I never wanted to,” she swore, horribly sullen. “Ben leveraged my cooperation like he does with everyone. But then I took Sun to our medical station and let her see her baby. I... befriend Jack. He saved my life. I knew on that day that I couldn’t betray the trust of either of them. I didn’t want Sun kidnapped. I don’t want her to die. And I don’t want that for you either.”

“What, just ‘cause it’s Jack’s baby I get his immunity, your sympathy?” There were certainly worse things that came from a relationship with him.

“No,” Juliet said, “I’m helping you because you’re pregnant. And that’s difficult enough on its own. But you deserve to live and to know your baby.” When she laughed it sounded like she was crying. “That’s all I ever... wanted. It’s why I came here in the first place.”

She said nothing else, and for a moment neither did Sawyer.

“You ain’t so bad,” he decided. “But you keep all that baby talk to yourself, y’hear? We’re still waiting on the personalized announcement cards to get back from the printers.”

She laughed. It was a happy sound. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. It’s your news. You should get to tell it.”

“Not exactly how I meant it,” Sawyer said. “Me and Jack, we’re not really... Well, let’s just say our situation ain’t exactly ideal, how’s that?” He was through with the conversation about him being pregnant. It made his skin flush like he was embarrassed and ashamed. “How far away are these guns?”

“There aren’t any guns.”

“What?”

“I lied.”

“You lied.” People were very good about that on the island, oftentimes pulling the wool over even his eyes.

“It was the only way he’d let us go back.”

It sounded like the exact sort of danger he and Jack promised each other they would not commit. Sawyer justified it by telling himself that Jack was probably out there breaking his word in his own way.

He and Juliet walked on to the beach.

+

“Sawyer’s pregnant,” Jack told Ben, breaking his promise about not doing anything stupid, “with my child. And I’ve heard that it doesn’t end too well for pregnant people here. You wanted to know why I’m so desperate to leave the island? There it is.” Jack wanted to wipe at his tired face, but his hands were covered in blood. “So you tell me, Ben, whether or not you think I’m serious. You tell me if I’m not going to do everything in my power to get him off this island. Just try me.”

Ben’s face was a faucet, dripping a thick, deep colored red onto his shirt. Jack could not say he had gone overboard in hitting him. Because if anything, it was restraint. Three of his people were dead on Ben’s order, and all that horrible man deserved was the chance to join them.

Ben sat up, slowly. He was obviously dizzy and disoriented. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked of the pregnancy announcement. Any other time it would be bad strategy to tell the enemy exactly what they wanted to know.

“Because I don’t actually plan on you living long enough to do anything with it,” Jack told him.

“I don’t doubt that you’re serious about getting off the island, Jack,” he said. “I never did. Motivation is just... how far you’re willing to go to make it happen. I think we can both agree you had plenty to start with.”

“Well, now I have more,” Jack said. “So don’t... for one second think that there’s anything you can say to stop me from calling that boat.”

Ben’s breaths were hard and wet as blood ran from his nose. He rubbed a hand across his face but only smeared it. “If you’re willing to go through so much trouble to save Sawyer from a probable death,” he said, “my only question is why you pick the option where death is a certainty?”

“We’re leaving the island,” Jack said, resolute in his stand.

“Fine,” Ben conceded. He sat up straighter in his subservience. “Leave the island if you’re so desperate to do so. I tell you what, I’ll even lend a hand. Your friend Desmond Hume, we have his boat. It’s yours, Jack, along with the bearing to get off the island. You can take Sawyer and as many people as you want. Just don’t call that boat.”

Jack’s hand twitched. It was a decent deal if it were true. And Ben’s constant warnings began to make him doubt the freighter’s promise of rescue. But, of course, that was exactly what he wanted. “No,” Jack said. “No, you’re lying.”

“Maybe you should pitch the idea to Sawyer before you turn it down,” Ben said. “Surely he gets a say in his own salvation.”

“He wants to leave,” Jack answered for Sawyer. “He wants to leave. And he trusts me to make that happen.”

“You don’t sound so sure,” Ben remarked. He was an artist who worked with words as a medium. He could target that small vulnerability and tear until it ruptured. Jack would not give him the chance.

“Get up,” he said.

Jack kicked and shoved the man back to the group. Everyone looked surprised yet not surprised to see the state of Ben’s battered face.

They went on to the radio tower. And Ben would watch them leave.

It was an unlooked for mercy when Hurley’s voice came over Ben’s walkie talkie, confiscated by Jack. He said everyone was fine. Juliet, the three reported as dead... Sawyer, all fine. It was the good news Jack needed.

Better news came when Naomi told him that Charlie succeeded in his mission. They could send out a signal.

Locke then throwing a knife into Naomi’s back was not something Jack could have planned for. But it did not stop him from making the call to the boat himself. Neither Locke nor Ben could stop it.

He would save Sawyer and their baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for the kudos, you guys. I am very, very appreciative. But I’d be grateful for some comments too. I hate to have my hand out, I do, but they inspire me, you know. And an absence of them sort of... does the opposite. It’s hard to get excited writing something when you don’t feel like people are excited to read it. :/
> 
> So, feedback would be great. And I do keep the anonymous feature on for it. <3


	5. Season Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who commented. You guys made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Sorry this chapter took me awhile. It’s not even that long either.
> 
> The series sort of implied that electromagnetism messed up women’s pregnancies. And that it was “The Incident” in the 70s that caused it to become so bad. Desmond activating the fail-safe in the end of season two possibly nullifies it and keeps that mutation from occurring anymore. So after season two it might actually be safe to be pregnant on the island again, but... the characters wouldn’t know that. So their fear is still very real.
> 
> I wonder what would have happened if Kelvin got Desmond pregnant in this universe. Because on the one hand, they’re sitting right on top of the electromagnetism. On the other hand, Desmond is immune to it. Very thought provoking stuff.
> 
> It would have been weird if everyone went down into the Hatch in season two and there was a toddler...

Jack watched the people leave his side and join Locke’s. One by one and then in pairs they went to him, retreating to the promised safety of the Barracks instead of the gamble of salvation.

Their group settled like upset water, rippling out until the discord that disturbed it calmed. They were split. Jack took a look at Locke’s dissenting camp, small. He looked at his own. In the front of the crowd he saw a face of indecision. It belonged to the last person he wanted it to.

Sawyer took one last guilty look at him, and then he turned his back. He turned towards Locke’s flock.

“Sawyer,” Jack called. It made him stop. His feet stood still as though he were stuck in the mud. Jack walked nearer. They were undeniably the center of attention, but there was no need to yell. “What are you doing?”

He looked over his shoulder, sorry and shamefaced. “Same thing I’ve always done,” he said, “surviving.” He tried once more to leave, but Jack grabbed him by the arm.

“This isn’t survival. You know that. If you go, you’ll—”

Sawyer spun around and gripped Jack’s possessive hand around the wrist. He squeezed tight, twisting the bones, cutting skin with his dirty nails. “We are _not_  doin’ this in public,” he said. It was a gravelly whisper that bit like an unchained dog. “And if you try and do it anyway I’ll knock every one of those teeth right out of your skull, so help me God.”

Jack did not doubt the threat. Sawyer had enough pride on the line that he would only spin believable ones, and he would follow through if need be. Jack knew if he pursued Sawyer’s compliance he would receive only that promise of great violence. The man would not be convinced.

“It’s a mistake,” Jack said. “You’ll die.” It was a general enough statement that no one in their crowd would think anything of it.

Sawyer let go of Jack’s hand, throwing it away.

“My choice.”

“You tell me what’s wrong,” Jack demanded. “You tell me what happened, why you’re acting like this.”

“Goodbye, Jack.” Sawyer took a step backwards. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”

He took another step, and then he turned around, showing his back.

And that was it. Jack very briefly entertained the idea of knocking Sawyer unconscious and kidnapping him (for his own good), but he would not have been happy when he woke.

Jack watched Sawyer go, knowing he had only one option. They would make contact with the boat, and he would prove its safety. Then Sawyer would come with him. Fear of the unknown was what held him back. That was it. That was all.

+

Locke readjusted the pack on his shoulders and nodded his head down the path. “The Others have vacated the Barracks, but I’d like to go on ahead and make sure it’s safe for us. James,” he addressed, “you care to join me?”

Sawyer shrugged. “Might as well,” he said, preferring when heroic acts and selfless bravery were thrust upon him and he did not have to volunteer. He would rather look obligated than noble any day.

If Sawyer thought the scouting mission was without motive, he would have been wrong. He was not so stupid, however, and when they had walked for ten minutes, Locke’s breach of silence was unsurprising.

“Something’s different about you, James,” he said, speaking with a casual air.

“Just angry I gotta hike through the jungle tryin’ to save my own skin,” Sawyer replied. “Don’t really see what’s so different about that. Sounds like our average Tuesday, if you ask me.”

“Forgive me for being vague,” Locke said. “That’s my fault. But I was actually talking about the way you smell.” Sawyer stopped where he was and did not resume his pace until Locke looked at him. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again, “there were probably better ways to say that.”

“Keep it to yourself,” Sawyer told him. He added a threat for good measure. “And if you go on sniffin’ me, I’ll make it so you aren’t able to smell anything for a long, long time. You got that?”

“Fair enough,” Locke allowed. “That is your choice. But, you know, it’s not really that your scent has changed so much as just... calmed down. I guess that’s clue enough though, isn’t it?”

He grabbed onto a branch blocking the trail and pulled it out of the way, holding it there and providing an unobstructed path. Sawyer put his hand near Locke’s and bent the branch, breaking it off entirely. He walked past.

Locke went on speaking in opposition to Sawyer’s demand for silence on the subject. “It does, though,” he said, “beg the question of why you would come with me and my group when you know very well what could happen if you stay here, on the island.”

“Well, your question can just beg right off,” Sawyer said. “I don’t owe you or anybody else an explanation.”

“I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with that thing I needed your help with.”

“I said it’s my own damn business,” Sawyer growled.

“You killed a man in cold blood,” Locke said. “And from what I understand it may have been your objective in life, the thing that drove you. Now,” he considered, “now I think you’re scared knowing you have just the one foreseeable goal. It’s as far as you can see your future and you’d rather risk dying because of it than accept that it’s your last adventure.”

“Well,” Sawyer scoffed, “sounds like you think you got me all figured out.”

“No, James,” he said. “That’s what you think of you. Personally I think you have a great many adventures left. You just don’t know what they are yet.”

“Philosophical as always, Locke,” Sawyer said. He laughed but it sounded like a sigh. “You think I made a mistake comin’ here?”

“I think Jack told you that and you’ve been thinking about it ever since,” Locke said. “He believes he knows what’s best for you and everyone else, to the point where he would ignore any rational thought to immediate safety. There’s plenty of time for you to leave the island, James. You know that. But for now you’re worried about your baby, and I think you are a very good parent already to remove yourself from harm’s way like you are.”

“Thought I was running ‘cause I was scared of the damn thing,” Sawyer reminded, “scared of my... future.”

“No reason it can’t be both,” Locke said with a smile.

“Well...” He drifted off and was quiet for several seconds. “Well, thanks I guess. For not makin’ some stupid alpha speech about steppin’ up to the plate and lookin’ after little ol’ me.”

“I want to protect all our people,” he said. “But you are the absolute last one I worry about. You’re a very strong and resourceful man, omega or not. You don’t need me or Jack.”

“Yeah, you keep mentioning Jack,” Sawyer said. “I don’t remember ever saying he was the daddy.”

Locke shrugged. “I took a stab at it.”

Sawyer wondered just how many other people could make that educated guess.

He had never seen the Barracks. For Sawyer there were only secondhand accounts, descriptions of how ordinary it all was, how... normal. But not even the story from Jack’s rescue party or Karl’s offhand mention of backyards prepared him for the actual sight.

“It’s a goddamn town,” he remarked, in awe of the almost forgotten sight of civilization. “Little suburban houses straight outta some catalog.”

“Yes,” Locke said, “it’s a nice place to hide. But more importantly, it’s safe.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer murmured, “you keep to your idea about what qualifies as important and I’ll keep to mine. I want me a damn shower and a bed.”

“Later,” Locke said. “First, we secure the buildings and find a place to stash our prisoners.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They did so quickly. And it was only fair compensation for risking his safety that Sawyer treated the security sweep as an evaluation. He looked through every house and picked the one he liked best, claiming it.

It was the perfect castle for him to relax in after a stressful couple of days. But he was not able to do so just yet.

Kate showing up was not a surprise. Sawyer expected her and not under some delusion that she changed her mind about joining them.

A small party followed them to the Barracks: Kate, Sayid, and some mouthy Asian guy who must have come from the boat.

Sawyer waited— not on the edge of his seat, but not reclined against it either— to see if Jack was amongst them. The man was stubborn, and he would surely pursue Sawyer to talk him out of staying. He would insist they discuss every piece of conversation that needed to be had privately. And Sawyer was almost in a mood to have it, to confess and lay bare his sullied existence, where killing a man was a twenty year vendetta that came and went.

Jack did not come to the Barracks.

+

“Kinda sucks, huh?”

Jack jerked his head, severing the strings of thought he was entangled in. He looked from the bright blue sky he had been staring at to Kate. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Being told not to come along,” she answered. Jack chuckled. It certainly did. “Now you know what it feels like to be me.”

“Does that mean I should wait twenty minutes and go anyway?”

She laughed and so did he, but Jack was mostly serious. He wanted to go, desperately needed to. However, recovering the girl, Charlotte, from Locke was a matter of diplomacy, as Sayid said, and Jack was a horrible, wrathful person for that job, as Sayid said it. His hatred for Locke risked the entire mission. And without the girl, the pilot would not fly them off the island.

But that did not mean he was without his own, separate motive in going. He had that most prevalent of reasons. It scratched at his skin and ate at his insides, a worrisome sensation whose pain had progressed to the physical.

Sawyer, the stubborn fool, could not stay on the island.

“You should go with them, Kate.”

Her smile faded and she became more somber. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

Her gaze strayed to Sayid and Miles as they prepared for their journey across the island. “What, don’t you trust Sayid?”

“It’s not about trust,” Jack said. “And it’s not about Sayid. I need you to do something for me that I can’t ask from him.” He considered his options, what story he could tell her. “Sawyer might actually listen to you.”

“He won’t,” Kate said. “He made his choice, Jack.”

“He’ll run out.” The lie told itself. Perhaps he had been around Sawyer too much. “The... suppressants I gave him won’t last forever, and there were no more in the Barracks. He’ll run out, Kate. He can’t stay here.”

Someone had to talk Sawyer into coming back. Someone had to convince him to leave the island. Jack’s temper made him a liability and ruled him out. He could not be near Locke, not after pointing a gun in the man’s face and pulling the trigger. Jack needed to leave— all of them did— and they needed the girl in order to do that. But he could not go to the Barracks. He could not risk failure. Because there would be little point in dragging Sawyer back if there were no manner of egress past it.

“Okay,” Kate agreed. He knew she would. “I’ll try talking to him, but...”

“I know,” Jack said. “He’s stubborn. Just... just do what you can.”

“There anything you want me to tell him?”

“No,” he said. There was no message that could bear being repeated by a third party. He was not even sure what he would say if he could. “No, just... tell Sawyer I need for him to come back.” Jack shook his head. That sounded wrong, too affectionate, too close to home. “Tell him that he needs to leave.”

Kate nodded, accepting the task assigned to her. “I’ll do my best.”

“Be careful,” Jack said. “I don’t trust Locke.” He especially did not like Sawyer and his child being holed up with the man, but that was his own private concern.

“You be careful too.” She left with the preparing party.

+

Hurley volunteered himself as Sawyer’s roommate. He followed right inside like some vagrant mutt. Sawyer could not deny him. The guy had lost his best buddy, Charlie. He needed someone. And maybe Sawyer did not want to be alone either.

They had a shower and beds, luxuries lost since the Hatch went boom. There was a living room and in it a comfortable chair not torn out of an airplane. Sawyer claimed it and he sat himself down with a book and another pair of crudely fused glasses.

There was a box of Dharma wine in the kitchen that Hugo brought to his attention, a penance for crashing in his house.

“Nah,” Sawyer said, waving the offering off. “Nah, I’m tryin’ to... cut back.”

“Okay,” Hurley said. “That’s cool. In the cabinet if you want it.”

There might have been a window in which he could still drink, and Sawyer knew there was some little something about pregnant people and wine. Unfortunately, his doctor was unavailable for questions. So instead he had a cup of hot cocoa like some old woman.

It was delicious.

Once he realized it was happening, Sawyer was floored by how quickly he fell into a routine. He had always been a chameleon, blending in and relaxing against whatever environment was beneath him. Hell, it was no time at all before he accepted and embraced island living. But what surprised him about the Barracks was how ordinary it was, how domestic. It was the one existence he always told himself he would fight against and never fall for.

He enjoyed it.

But that did not mean he said no to a little action when Kate needed him.

Sawyer assisted her in getting their one rude prisoner from the boat to talk to their other rude prisoner in Locke’s basement. But he also made sure to play his cards right with their acting leader. There was no reason they both had to get in trouble over the whole thing.

Locke banished Kate.

She came to Sawyer’s house, to his bedroom, to tell him that. He said he would protect her, make it so she could stay, but he knew she would never accept the offer.

Kate could not remain in one place for too long. She was incapable. They were the same in that regard, or at least they had been. Which was why she could not understand Sawyer’s sudden need, love, and desire for playing house.

He did not expect her to.

They slept together. In his bed and with their clothes on, they innocently slept together.

Kate woke before him. She was an early riser. And when she crawled out from beneath Sawyer’s arm it brought him around.

He opened his eyes— one first, then both— and saw that Kate had already moved to the edge of the bed. She sat there with her hands hanging between her knees.

“You late for work?” he murmured with a grin. “Lay back down, Freckles. We ain’t got nowhere to be.”

“I’m leaving,” Kate said.

Sawyer sat up. “You don’t have to.” It was a pointless offering, but he made it anyway, not wanting to be alone in that future Locke rightly said he feared. “You can stay right here in my house.”

“I don’t want to stay in your house with you, James.”

Kate would not face him when she spoke and it led Sawyer to question, “You mad at me?” There were probably a few good reasons why, but they were smalltime, nothing worth getting upset over. Then he remembered. “Oh, right,” he sighed. “You still think... you might be pregnant.” With everything that happened, Sawyer almost forgot that one worry, or maybe he purposefully pushed it from his mind, needing a small reprieve from stress.

“I’m not worried.” Kate turned and put one folded knee up on the bed. “And I’m not pregnant,” she told him.

“I am,” Sawyer thought but did not say. “Are you sure?” he did ask. It sounded too good to be true, just imagining that he could discard one heavy concern from his docket.

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, “I’m sure.”

Sawyer cackled a joyous laugh. “I mean...” He exhaled elatedly. “Whoo!”

Kate scoffed at him and dropped her gaze. She was upset by his response. “Would it have been the worst thing in the world?” she asked.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes, it would’ve been the worst thing in the world.” Kate could not fathom how horrible it might have been. Because Sawyer would not tell her the true source of his relief, that two children at once was too much.

“I’m going back to the beach,” Kate said, announcing her resolute plan to leave once more. She moved back to the edge of the bed and began putting on her shoes.

“Because of this?” Sawyer asked. “Is that why you’re leaving? You want an apology, what?”

“No,” she said. “I’m leaving because I want to leave, James, leave the island.” She paused in tying her shoelaces and sat up straight again. “And you need to come with me. You can’t stay here.”

“I damn sure can,” Sawyer insisted. “And there ain’t nothin’ that’s gonna stop me.”

“Jack said...” She stopped, immediately regretting how she began, her mention of Jack, but that was what she said and so she stuck to it. “Jack said you’ll run out.”

“Run outta what?”

“Suppressants.”

Sawyer could have laughed. He almost did. So that was the story they were going with. That was the lie Jack was telling. “If Jack wanted me to come back so damn bad,” Sawyer said, seeing those strings that pulled her now, knowing what puppet-master they led back to, “he shoulda marched right on over here and told me himself.”

“Jack’s concerned,” Kate said, “but he can’t cross the entire island because of it. He asked me to deliver the message, and I did. Come with me.” She was so beseeching, so pitying of his cause when she had no right nor reason to be. “You need to get off this island before—”

“I wind up pregnant?” Sawyer interrupted. He tossed Kate’s own words back at her with cruelty. “Would it be the worst thing in the world?”

She breathed hard through her nose, unhappy with his childish mockery. “Goodbye, James.” Kate stood and crossed the room, but her hand lingered on the doorknob. She tried one more time, for Jack’s sake certainly. “Come with me.”

“I ain’t leavin’, Kate,” Sawyer said, the answer he knew she was already expecting. “And you can take that message right back on over to Doctor Shephard.”

“I’m not a messenger,” she stated, “yours or Jack’s.”

Jack would figure it out on his own when she showed up alone. He was a smart boy like that.

Kate left.

Sawyer went back to his normal little life like she never came. The next day they even had a modest Christmas dinner. Sawyer tried his best to enjoy it, even with the little bastard down at the end of the table that Locke let loose.

Ben caught up to Sawyer when they all headed home for the evening. “Christmas without children around feels just a tad... hollow. Wouldn’t you agree, James?”

“I think I was more put off by the palm trees and the ninety degree weather,” Sawyer replied, pretending he could be civil around the man.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve had a really good Christmas in a long time. Probably not since Alex asked how Santa Claus managed to find the island when no one else could.” He looked past Sawyer’s shoulder, in the direction of the house Rousseau shared with Alex and Karl. “She stopped believing in him that year.”

Sawyer snorted. “I find it hard to believe somebody like you went along playin’ up Old Saint Nick.”

“Somebody like what?” Ben replied, as if he did not know how exactly horrible he was, as if he were ignorant to his own villainy. “We’re all capable of doing ridiculous things for our children, James. It’s just easier to make them happy when they’re young. Lies are... charitable instead of confining or cruel.”

“Why the hell are you talking to me?” Sawyer finally thought to ask. His feet were slower in questioning the matter and thus did not lead him away.

“Who knows,” Ben said. “Maybe because you’re the only one besides John that doesn’t run away or ignore me.”

“I ain’t afraid of you,” Sawyer said.

“No, I should think not,” he agreed. “You still have a gun in the waistband of your pants.”

“Well, maybe I oughta use it to help walk you home,” Sawyer threatened.

“No need,” Ben said. “I’ll go quietly.” He dawdled in his exit, looking up at the night sky. It was clear and black and populated by so many stars. “Big holidays like this always get me thinking,” he said, still keeping himself in their conversation. “It makes me wonder where I’ll be in a year, where I’ll be next Christmas. I think about what might me different.” He dropped his head down and looked at Sawyer with those wide, bright eyes. “What might be different for you in a year, James? What will your next Christmas be like?” Sawyer did not answer him. He had no immediate answer, though he knew what it so obviously was. “Well,” Ben patted his thighs and began to walk away, “let’s just hope you’re still with us to have it.”

Sawyer was too dazed by the comment to question the very clear implication behind it. Ben knew, or he liked to talk big like he did. Sawyer had long ago decided not to believe a single word coming over that forked tongue and through those thin lips.

But from the whole bizarre interaction there was one idea that pervaded. Next Christmas he would have a baby.

It was the first time he thought about his future since he killed Sawyer, Locke’s father. It was the first time since then that he gave any real thought to his baby and not just his pregnancy. He almost felt hopeful again.

Hope never lasted long, not for him, and especially not on the island.

+

They walked all night. Claire carried Aaron. Miles carried the torch. Sawyer carried the guns that would keep them safe should any more mercenaries from the boat show up.

Just before dawn they stopped, needing the rest. It was risky to build a fire, but Sawyer decided they were far enough from danger to have one.

Though her back was to them, Sawyer looked away while Claire fed Aaron. He was glad to see Miles know what was good for himself and do the same.

Claire turned around when she was done, and she put Aaron on her shoulder to burp him.

“He doin’ all right?” Sawyer poked at the fire as though he asked a passive, obligatory question with no other purpose than to fill the air.

“I think he’s already forgotten it honestly,” Claire said with a smile. “But maybe he’s scared because we’re scared.”

“Don’t you worry,” Sawyer told her. “If any of those bastards survived that smoke thing, I’ll take care of ‘em.” A part of him was afraid, and that part knew what he said was nothing but a comfort. But if they were found, he would go down swinging, as the saying went.

“It sure would help if more than one person was armed,” Miles spoke up. “I’m just sayin’.”

“You can keep your sayings to yourself,” Sawyer replied. “I don’t give anybody a gun unless I know I can trust ’em. And you ain’t bought that privilege yet, Jackie Chan.”

“Sure, whatever,” Miles muttered. “Just wanna stay alive like the rest of you, but hey, let’s distribute weapons based on how well the redneck knows us.”

“You’re welcome to make your own way out in the jungle if my policies don’t sit well with you,” Sawyer said.

Miles looked around at the smothering darkness and shook his head. “Nah, I’ll... I’ll just stay right here for now.”

It was the obvious choice.

There was no conversation. They were all three very different people with little to nothing in common that they knew about. And even if they had been the best of friends, the trauma of the day was still too fresh. It silenced them.

Sawyer watched the fire. He kept it going. Occasionally he would look over at Aaron. The little guy was wide awake. His eyes watched orange light project onto the swaying canopy above. Sawyer thought his fleeting glances went unnoticed. He was wrong.

“Would you like to hold him?” Claire offered.

“You gotta go to the ladies room or somethin’?” Sawyer asked.

“No, no,” Claire said. Then she thought better and said with a shrug, “Well, I could probably go.” She chuckled and held Aaron out towards Sawyer. “I just thought... you might want to. You keep looking over here.”

He almost said no, his default response, but that smooth little head and those fat cheeks made something in him want. And after the day he had, he needed a little relaxation, a little happiness.

“I’ll hang onto him while you go,” Sawyer said, holding his arms out. Claire smiled and gently passed the baby to him. It was always such a surprise how little Aaron weighed, and half of it was probably blanket. Sawyer was smiling, but he did away with the expression by clearing his throat. “Don’t you get too far,” he warned Claire.

“I won’t,” she promised as she walked away.

She was not gone very long at all before Miles broke the silence. “So you’re an omega, huh?”

“No,” Sawyer spat. The glare he gave was suspicious overcompensation.

“Your plane’s manifest says different,” Miles disputed. “I had a lot of time on the boat, so I read all the interesting cases. Any omegas sorta stuck out.” Sawyer snorted air through his nose like a bull set to charge. “Hey man, I don’t care. And more power to you for being such a bad ass or whatever. I just have about a dozen questions, is all.”

“Well, they all have the same answer,” Sawyer said with a vicious smile. “None of your damn business.”

After that, Sawyer felt like Miles was watching him, waiting for that omega typical behavior to show itself with the baby. He made sure to hand Aaron off the second Claire returned.

But pride was such a low priority when Claire went missing for good the next night. Sawyer held Aaron tightly against his chest and did not care what Miles thought. The child had lost his mother, and she could not be found. Sawyer consoled him, speaking in whispers and gently shushing. He was good at it.

+

When Sawyer left with Locke, Jack thought with a degree of certainty that he would be safe from an immediate harm, if not the prolonged one of pregnancy. He was wrong.

Jack and Kate ran into Miles first, and that was a peculiarity since he had been surrendered to Locke as a prisoner. But then Sawyer’s voice was heard coming up behind.

Jack thought they were all returning, but when Sawyer stepped out holding baby Aaron, he knew something was wrong. Claire was missing. And their party of twelve had been culled to a number one fourth what it had been.

They argued, him and Sawyer, over what they should do. Sawyer criticized the satellite phone Jack followed as well as his obsession with leaving the island. But Jack would not stop trying to save him, all of them, not even when Sawyer himself had given up.

Their yelling made the baby cry.

Fighting was an inevitability between two people so poorly matched. Jack only hoped it would not seep further into their relationship, creating an unavoidable cycle of shouting in front of their own child.

Kate took Aaron, and the two of them went with Miles back to the beach. Sawyer followed Jack. They dropped their anger towards one another, deeming it unimportant. Their ability to do that gave him small hope yet.

Any other time, Jack would have made Sawyer retreat to the beach as well. He was too protective, and losing Sawyer meant losing his family before it even began. But his had been a week fraught with worry. It felt good to have the man at his back. And they had much to discuss.

“So tell me, Doc,” Sawyer said as they swam through a field of grass as high as their chests, “what went through your head when you saw me walk out holdin’ a baby?”

“I was worried for Claire,” Jack answered.

“And after that fear had come and gone,” Sawyer pressed, “what then?”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Sawyer,” he said. “I never know... what it is you want. And I feel like no matter what I say here it’ll be the wrong thing.”

“Try.”

Jack stopped in his tracks and Sawyer came up behind him, waiting. “I thought,” he sighed, “‘Jack Shephard, you are an idiot.’”

“Good,” Sawyer said. “I like it. Keep goin’.”

“‘And you let an even bigger idiot,’” Sawyer scoffed irritably at that, “‘walk off into the jungle and to his probable death. And it’s not... fair that you have thirty people counting on you, making it so you couldn’t go after him. But there he is. He’s here now, he’s back. And he looks,’” Jack chuckled, “‘damn good holding that baby.’”

“Damn good, huh?” Sawyer questioned with a smirk.

“Yes,” Jack said, “pretty damn good. And the only thing that could’ve made it better is if it was our baby.” Jack took a step closer and put his hands on Sawyer’s hips, holding him there. “And if I was looking at you and him in a nice, safe, overpriced apartment in LA.” Sawyer turned his head to the side, breaking eye contact. “What happened, James? Why did you run?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sawyer said. “I’m here now, ain’t I?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah. But I’ll feel a lot better if I know you won’t leave if you get scared again.”

Sawyer stepped back. He grabbed his hair on either side and shook it around, scratching his fingernails over his scalp and messing it all up. “Locke explained it to me better than I ever could to you,” he said. Jack was not happy to know the two of them had been discussing Sawyer’s situation and their child together. “And the whole truth involves somethin’ we ain’t got time for right now. It’s my secret, Jack, and I get to keep it to myself for a little longer.”

“Okay.” Jack bobbed his head, giving in to the demand. “I won’t ask. Just promise me you won’t... that you won’t leave again.”

“Why didn’t you come?” Sawyer asked, blatantly sidestepping Jack’s request. “When everybody else was gettin’ caught up in our trap over at the Other island getaway, I kept waitin’ on that head of yours to pop up too. Thought you’d come and talk me out of stayin’.”

“Sayid didn’t think it was a good idea,” Jack answered. “We needed the girl being held prisoner, and Sayid was afraid I’d try to kill Locke again if I went.” He sighed. “But I did _want_  to go. You know that.”

“It was nice over there,” Sawyer said, “right up until it wasn’t. Had me thinkin’ stupid thoughts like it’d be an okay little place to raise a kid, a safe place. The baby could run around with Aaron when they got old enough. Even had a damn swingset, for cryin’ out loud.”

“I know,” Jack said. “And if you want a swingset, James, we’ll get one,” he promised. “We’ll get an actual house with a yard, or we’ll live near a park. I just need you to get on that boat. Everything else comes after.”

“Claire,” Sawyer said in a low whisper. He paused, still and breathless. “She’s gone. And that little boy of hers...” He dropped his head and scratched at his brow with his thumbnail. He did not look at Jack. “You say it looked good to see me with him? Well, it felt good holdin’ him too.”

“What are you trying to say?” Jack asked with genuine confusion.

“Claire went missin’ on my watch,” he said guiltily. “So I don’t know what lawyer you’re gonna have to hire back over in the States, but I want you to make it so Aaron don’t slip through no cracks and end up in the system. You promise me we keep that boy and I’ll come with you, Jack.”

“Done,” Jack said, no hesitation. He had no plan yet, but if that was what it took to make Sawyer come with him, then that was what he would do. And looking after Aaron would be great practice for them. Jack said as much out loud and it made Sawyer grin, almost bashfully.

“One baby at a time, Doc,” he said. “And since we done landed in this discussion, I might as well tell you Kate ain’t pregnant. So let’s count our blessings there.”

“That’s good,” Jack said. “That’s- that’s good.” He began walking again, following the beeping signal of the phone that would lead them to the helicopter. “You know I’m not one of those possessive alphas.” It was only a partial truth. “If you had a kid with someone... not me, I wouldn’t have been resentful.” That much was true at least.

“Whatever you say.” Sawyer did not believe him.

They found the helicopter and its pilot. Then they followed his directions in order to save Hurley from the aggressors after Ben.

Jack managed to keep himself from killing Locke when they met again. It helped his control greatly in knowing there was nothing that could keep him there anymore, not even the man’s last begging request that Jack remain on the island, claiming he would regret it if he left.

He was going to leave, for his own sake, for Sawyer’s, for their baby. Nothing could stop that.

+

The island looked so different from the sky, so harmless, so beautiful. They covered an hour of walking distance in minutes. Sawyer gazed upon the terrain, unbelieving that it would be his last look. After 100 days, the concept was surreal.

They flew over trees and open plains, constantly exchanging one for the other until they broke free of both and out onto the even ripple of ocean water.

And that was when everything went wrong. Their fuel tank was hit by a bullet and leaking too fast to be ignored.

They threw luxuries into the drink to lighten their weight. It did not help. They tossed everything not bolted down. It sustained them momentarily, but with no boat in sight, it was not a viable solution for long.

There was one option left, but everyone was sitting around twiddling their thumbs and pretending it was unimaginable.

Kate knew many of Sawyer’s secrets. He gave her one more. Should the worst happen, he asked her to check on his daughter, and for her to keep that mission secret from Jack. The man talked big about not caring if he had children with other people, but Sawyer would not risk it just yet. Clementine was his secret, his and Kate’s now.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, as though she could not guess.

Sawyer kissed her, a sweet peck on the cheek, his thanks.

Jack was sitting there on the bench across from him, no clue what was happening. But he had the same look on his face as when Sawyer left with Locke for the Barracks. “Don’t,” it said. Sawyer knew he must have worn the same expression as that night: guilt, remorse.

Jack would hate him in a minute.

“C’mere.”

Some secrets felt silly in that moment. All stakes were lower against the highest, mightiest one. Sawyer trusted everyone in the helicopter— except the pilot, whom he barely knew— and half of them already suspected anyway.

Sawyer put a hand on the back of Jack’s neck and dragged him over. They kissed— or Sawyer kissed him, rather. Jack was too surprised by what was happening, by their kissing in public. It took him several seconds to return the sentiment, and even then it was halfhearted, confused. Sawyer placed one more light kiss on his lips before he pulled away.

Everyone’s reactions were too tempting to pass up, and Sawyer was not so strong as to try. The pilot was busy, and Sayid had turned away from discomfiture or consideration. Kate was surprised, though not so much as Hurley. And Jack was nothing if not determined.

“We’ll find the boat,” he said. It was a yell spoken above the whooshing blades of the helicopter. It could barely be heard. “We’re not going down.” Jack misinterpreted Sawyer’s kiss and his intent.

“I know.”

He jumped before Jack could stop him.

“Sawyer!” The yell followed after him, but it was impotent of any ability to pull him back up.

Someone else might have likened it to suicide, staying on an island that would kill him and his baby. Sawyer preferred to think of it as selflessness, one good act to redeem months— a lifetime— of bad ones. Every other person on that helicopter wanted off the island so badly, off the island and back to the lives they all loved so damn much. None of them would jump, and the aircraft would plunge its blades into the water with that refusal. They were selfish, but it was an understandable selfishness. He saved them all by potentially dooming himself. He gave them the means and opportunity to rescue him.

It felt heroic and he had no regrets.

Sawyer had no doubt that Jack would come back for him on the next trip, in the boat or with a repaired helicopter.

He would come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww. I want AU where Sawyer and Jack raise Aaron. It’d be cute. They could say he was pregnant on the plane and Aaron was his. Looks more like him than Kate. Damn canon-ish plot I’m trying to stick to. Oh well...
> 
> Short chapter for a short season. This one was a little hard to write because I just wanted to skip ahead and do the season five one that’s next. Which I am working on now. It’s giving me the most trouble yet (for obvious reasons, I think), so it may be awhile until it’s out. But I’ll be quick as possible without rushing.


	6. Season Five - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter split in two. Once again, a lot happens, as can be imagined with a three year time skip. And I didn’t even write those three years! Just the aftereffect. I pick up right where Jack and Sawyer meet again in 1977. I’m sorry if you wanted everything in between there. I’ll talk about it a lot though. A lot. Longest chapter yet.

A moment was spent on bliss. Recognition and realization were all they needed.

Hurley hugged Sawyer, Kate did too. Jack stayed behind, watching him, unable to believe the man was alive despite three years of hoping just that.

Sawyer and Jin said things that sounded like nonsense, but Jack liked to think the island had stolen just enough of his skepticism that the idea of being stuck in 1977 and working for the Dharma Initiative made perfect sense. Of course. What was one more absurdity atop the mountain?

Then Jin drove off in search of Sun and the trance broke. The steadied, balanced weight of reality and the three crushing years of worry dropped on Jack again and without mercy. He might later regret such rash, violent action, but in the moment it felt fantastic.

His fist cracked against Sawyer’s jaw. Jack hissed and nursed his hand through the pain as the man went down, caught off guard and slamming into the ground.

“Well, hello to you too,” Sawyer said. He felt his jaw, tracing the threat of a bruise. When he spat on the ground there was no blood. It could have been worse. He stuck his hand out, hoping for help back up.

Jack glared at Sawyer. He let him sit. He let his outstretched hand hang for so long it began to waver. Then Jack pulled him to his feet.

“You’re insane,” Jack snapped at him. “You are a vindictive lunatic!”

Sawyer glanced over at the others, Hurley and Kate. “Y’all wanna give us a minute?” he requested. “I think me and Jack here have somethin’ we need to discuss.”

They lingered for a second, but then they retreated, walking back towards the van.

“What do you think that’s about?” Jack heard Hurley ask, a hushed sound that was drifting away and crashing against the waves beyond.

“Well,” Kate answered quietly, trying to be discreet, “if Sawyer’s alive, I think that means they have a kid together.”

“What?!”

Sawyer stared after them, hearing everything Jack did. “Thanks for tellin’ Kate,” he sighed. It was sarcasm.

“I needed to tell someone,” Jack said, still angry. “No word for three years, not one word. Then Locke shows up and he won’t say anything, not even if you’re alive or dead. I needed someone to talk to.”

“Ain’t you gonna ask why?” Sawyer said. His jaw was already red from the punch.

“Sure, Sawyer,” he scoffed. “Go ahead. Tell me why it was so damn important to you that Locke was forbidden against telling me if you were all right. Please explain to me why I... why I couldn’t have that small peace of mind.”

“Because he _left_  three years ago,” Sawyer said. “Of course I was still alive then. If he didn’t tell you anything past that it’s ‘cause he didn’t know. Locke jumped down a well not long after y’all took off. Couple days, maybe one, I don’t know. Time was weird here for a minute. But I didn’t ‘forbid’ him nothin’. His intel just wasn’t much more recent than yours, and he knew better than to open his damn mouth one way or the other.”

“Oh,” Jack said, an embarrassed sound that came out when he exhaled. “I see.”

“Now, I did think about pulling a Doc Brown,” Sawyer went on. “Send you a letter in the post when you’d be at such-and-such a place at such-and-such a time. Only I went and left your future address in my other jumpsuit.” He patted the pockets to emphasize his caustic banter.

“I get it,” Jack said, motioning for him to quit. He had thought of Sawyer’s wit and humor more fondly in memory.

“No, you don’t get it, Jack,” he said. “Because I never woulda been sendin’ you little updates anyway. I decided on that right off.” Sawyer glanced at the duo by the van and saw them talking amongst themselves. He would not look back over when he said, “At first you and Juliet still had me scared outta my head that I was gonna die. So I told her not to send any sort of message sayin’ if it did happen. I didn’t need you blaming yourself and feeling guilty forever. But lo and behold,” he exclaimed, “I made it through. Textbook, Juliet said, or near enough. There might’ve been your average little hiccup here and there. But my guess is whatever happened on this island ain’t happened yet.”

“You could’ve told me that,” Jack insisted, none too happy. It would have made his nights easier, his days more bearable. He might not have climbed into a bottle of pills or chased it with whatever drink was available.

“Thought about that too,” Sawyer said. “If I died, you woulda felt miserable the rest of your life, so on and so forth, etcetera. But if I lived... well, then you would be... oh, I dunno, miserable for the rest of your life. Goin’ about your days thinkin’ how you’d never get to meet your son. So no, Jack. It was best to let you stay in that middle-ground, where time never passes and every day’s a ‘what if’.”

Jack had more words of anger, armed and at the ready. They fell away, melting like ice in the tropical sun. One part of what Sawyer said hit him with unparalleled strength. “Son?” he repeated. “I... we have a son?”

Sawyer shrugged as if it were no big deal, nothing to fuss over. How commonplace a child must be after spending every day with him for almost three years.

“Named him Christian.”

“You...” Jack stopped. “You named him Christian?”

“No.” Sawyer shook his head, looking somewhat apologetic. “Sorry, that might’ve been in poor taste. I shoulda known you’d take it seriously.” He smiled. “Honestly though, the little guy was the easy one to name. It was the girls I had so much trouble with.”

“The- the girls?” Jack stammered. “What does... What does that mean, ‘the girls’?” He had a shaking feeling but was not certain if he wanted it confirmed.

“What,” Sawyer said, “Juliet never did tell you? People on this island are _extremely_  fertile. Five times the regular, easy. As a result of that, Jack, we got us a gaggle of triplets.”

Jack’s legs felt weak. “Trip... Three...” Sawyer broke into a stupid grin and then Jack realized. “You’re lying again.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Sorry. You’re just too damn easy. And I was always hopin’ I’d get to have me some fun with this if you ever did show up.” He patted Jack on the arm. “So there’s the good news for you, given your three years back child support. It’s just the one, a boy. And his name ain’t Christian.”

“What is his name?” Jack asked, needing to know, craving the answer.

“Named him after the greatest singer there ever was or ever will be,” Sawyer announced. “Named him Hank.”

Jack snorted. “You named our...” He laughed, a real bubbling humor that lifted so much agony and stress. He felt lighter, as if that one ridiculous, silly fact shed pounds of weight from him. “You named our son after Hank Williams.”

“The one and only,” Sawyer said with a grin and a wink.

“Hank.” Jack laughed again. Then he took a guess in saying, “Hank Ford?”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t gonna be Shephard,” Sawyer told him. “He’s got a birth certificate that makes things official. And I’d like it to say Ford if anything, but it’s LaFleur. Seein’ as how he’s only two though, we just call him Hank.”

“Why LaFleur?” Jack asked, horribly confused by the randomness of it. And looking down, he finally took notice of the same name on Sawyer’s jumpsuit.

“That’s my handle,” Sawyer explained. “I go by Jim LaFleur here, head of security.”

Jack laughed, an unintentional sound that got away from him. “Sorry,” he apologized, “but you, you’re head of security? You’re the law here?” Jack knew Sawyer had a just streak beneath the immorality he exaggerated. That did not make the image of him as an authority figure any easier to summon.

“Yeah, there was a fresh job opening when I arrived.” Sawyer looked back the way he had driven from and shifted on his feet. “But we can talk all that out later. Right now I gotta book it if I wanna make y’all legit.”

They walked down the hill together, down towards the van.

Hurley stepped forward with a little courage and a lot of curiosity. “So—”

“Later Hugo,” Sawyer said as he hopped into the van. “Don’t run off,” he told them. “I’ll be back soon as I can.”

He drove away.

“So—”

“Later Hurley.”

+

Jack sat in the back of the van with Kate, feeling that Sawyer needed a little space from him at the moment. He needed time to think. Jack gave it to him because he needed his own time as well. He had a lot of information to process before he grilled Sawyer for more. Landing in 1977 with a two-year-old son was very much at once.

Sawyer gave them his own version of the welcome seminar, informing them on all they would need to know as new Dharma recruits. But either the drive was too long or he believed everything else would have to be learned as they went. He ran out of things to say and the van went quiet.

Hurley filled the unbearable silence when no one wanted him to. “So,” he drawled, hanging onto the one syllable as long as he could before addressing the elephant no one was talking about. “You guys have a kid together, huh?”

Sawyer chuckled. He must have missed Hurley’s well intended bluntness. “Yes,” he said, “as a matter of fact we do. Little guy by the name of Hank.”

“That is so a name you’d choose,” Hurley laughed, sounding very amused by it. “It’s too surreal though, man. I mean, I just- I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t act so surprised, Hugo,” he said. “You had the plane’s manifest. You knew I was an omega.”

“No, I knew that, dude,” Hurley said simply, and there was no judgment to it. He was as uncaring and accepting as ever. “I always just sort of figured you hoarded the suppressants or something. I never would’ve... I mean, you and Jack, that’s... Wow. I saw you guys kiss on the helicopter and still... Wow.”

“Yeah, that’s certainly my go-to word when I wake up every morning,” Sawyer said.

“Did you know?” Hurley asked.

“Know what?”

“When you jumped from the helicopter,” he said. “Did you know you were pregnant when you did that?”

“Well, I hadn’t exactly peed on a stick,” Sawyer joked. “But there typically ain’t much room for doubt in these kind of things either.”

“Dude,” Hurley exhaled, “not cool. You coulda, I don’t know, messed something up. Pregnant people aren’t even supposed to go on roller coasters.” Jack wanted to laugh at the overprotective treatment. He could imagine Sawyer would have hated it if Hurley was present for the actual pregnancy.

“I was two weeks in, Hugo,” Sawyer explained. “Only way I coulda messed something up was if it killed me.”

Hurley turned around in his seat. “Did you know?” he asked Jack. “‘Cause Kate said you knew.”

“Uh, I,” Jack stammered. He closed his eyes. “Yeah, Hurley. Yeah, I knew.”

“And you just let him jump?” Hurley exclaimed.

“I didn’t know what he was going to do,” Jack said. It was a lie, but it was a lie he had told himself in the moment. When they were in the helicopter, when Sawyer kissed him, he had thought, or hoped rather, that he was not about to do it. But he did. He jumped before Jack had a chance to talk him out of it.

“You should’ve jumped after him, man,” Hurley insisted. “You guys coulda been this, like, happy family in the 70s this whole time.”

“I thought we’d be able to go back for him,” Jack defended. “I didn’t know we—”

“Drop it,” Sawyer said. “No more talkin’.” He gave no one a choice in the matter and pushed in an 8-track tape before turning up the volume.

+

The Barracks looked as Jack remembered them. Thirty years and a regime change had not done much. However the people in the past looked so much happier. There was a banner and balloons and the smell of a summer barbecue. Children chased each other around the square. It was not until Jack saw them that he realized how heavy and oppressive their absence was in the future.

He studied every child. They were too old, or not old enough. The hair color was wrong. Every girl was dismissed right off.

Jack felt like he was spinning in a circle trying to observe them all. It had always been a hopeful lie that he would be a good father. Now he looked upon a community and thought he could be staring at his own child and not even know it.

Sawyer put a seashell lei around his neck and Jack grabbed his wrist. “I want to see him,” he said, stepping too far into the man’s personal space. “I want to see Hank.”

Sawyer looked back and forth between Jack and one select house that must have belonged to him. He was hesitant. “He’s sleepin’ right now,” Sawyer finally said, turning Jack down. “Boy loves his naps.”

“Can I see him anyway?” Jack pushed. He would meet his son. He would. But it would be nice to have Sawyer’s permission first. There was no need for unnecessary strife.

“Hell no,” Sawyer snorted.

Jack’s face fell. That was disappointing— not surprising, but disappointing. In Sawyer’s mind, it must have looked like Jack abandoned him in his obsession with getting off the island. That was how it looked on paper as well, but at the time Jack had every intention of returning for him, for them.

But then Sawyer had the generosity to forget all of that, to go on saying, “He’s a light sleeper and I, uh, I just got the little bastard down.”

Jack let go of Sawyer’s wrist. “Oh.”

“So maybe later, papa bear.” Sawyer patted him on the shoulder and left, off on some dire business. He seemed to be quite important within Dharma.

Jack went into the orientation building to receive his job assignment as instructed.

+

Jack could have laughed when the man pointed him in the direction of Sawyer’s house but warned, “I wouldn’t call him ‘James’. He hates it.” Clearly he did not know Sawyer as well as Jack did. But that was for the best, of course.

It was an understatement to say Jack was surprised when Juliet opened the door. There was a brief and curiously burning hope that he had the wrong place, but she snuffed the idea out quickly. It was indeed Sawyer’s house. She stepped back and let him inside.

Sawyer was sitting in a chair beneath the light of a lamp. His feet were propped up on the coffee table and there was a book in his hands. But underneath that book and curled up in his lap was a small figure, fast asleep.

Hank had blond hair and pajamas with the feet in them, and Jack sobbed at the first sight of him. Sawyer smiled and put a finger to his lips for quiet.

Juliet chuckled nervously, looking back and forth between them. “Well,” she said, “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.” She walked over to take Hank from Sawyer. Jack did not want her to.

“Nah, let him stay,” Sawyer said. He closed his book and put it on the table by his chair. “If he wakes up, he wakes up.”

Juliet did not fight him and left the room instead, going out the front door to give them privacy.

They were alone.

“Jack,” Sawyer called, making him jump and realize that perhaps he had been standing there and staring for too long. “He ain’t gonna disappear if you sit down. Go ahead. Take a load off.” He nodded his head at the couch to his left.

“Yeah,” Jack said, taking a deep breath for courage. “No, of course.” He walked forward and sat on the couch as instructed, perching on the edge of its cushion.

“We waited for you,” Sawyer said, “or I did, rather. I haven’t exactly thought of a way to explain you just yet.” He turned his head to look at a clock on the wall. “I was expecting you an hour ago, at least. I’d started to think you chickened out. Not that I’d blame you.”

Jack almost had, but not from a traditionally expected cowardice. Having such a tentative idea become reality was terrifying. Suddenly there was no more excitement. There was only the worry of how everything would go wrong, how it was all a dream. But he was awake. And Hank was right there, looking like the chubby little angels depicted in paintings.

His small head laid on his father’s chest. His thumb was in his mouth, and when Sawyer noticed, he pulled it away. Jack guessed it was a bad habit they were in the middle of breaking. An incomplete row of tiny white teeth peeked between parted lips as he breathed in his sleep. His hair was a bright blond, almost white, and it would have been too long by modern standards. In the 70s though, where they were, it just fit.

“Should you be... Should you be talking like that?” Jack whispered. “You said he was a light sleeper.”

“Nah,” Sawyer shook his head. “The boy’s a rock. I could drop him on the floor and he wouldn’t notice. I just said that ‘cause I didn’t want you in the house yet. You had orientation and all. That and night’s better. Less people watchin’.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jack went silent again.

“Let’s see,” Sawyer drawled, thinking of what to say. After a second he began listing it all off as though it were written down in from of him. “Name is Hank LaFleur. He’s two years and some change. Born one miserable goddamn week late. Used Juliet as my doctor when I had him. ‘Cause I damn sure didn’t trust nobody else, and I wasn’t about to get on the sub to the mainland like protocol says. Knowin’ my luck, y’all woulda come back the second I left.” He smiled like he had some ridiculous secret joke. “You’ll never guess what day it happened— according to the future calendar anyway, our time.” Jack shook his head slowly, still distracted by the sight in front of him and barely listening. “September 22,” Sawyer said. “Little bastard was born same day as our crash.” If Jack was supposed to say something about that, he was unsure what it was. He had stopped being surprised by such coincidences. “Uh,” Sawyer tried to think of what else to say, “hair’s blond, obviously. Eyes are blue but look to me like they change a little every day. Might get your green ones after all, daddy.”

“Yeah.” Jack swallowed then nodded. “Yeah, that’s...” He had no idea how to finish his sentence.

Sawyer exhaled, blowing tufts of Hank’s hair around. “First word was ‘dada’. Walked just shy of a year. Knows his numbers. And he is so damn interested in what I’m always doin’ with these books that he started tryin’ to read. We ain’t made much progress, of course— if any— but he’s enough of a stubborn brat to keep at it. Regular dog with a bone... Wonder where he got that little streak from,” he chuckled, looking purposefully at Jack when he said it.

Hank bobbed up and down with Sawyer’s quiet laugh. His small face scrunched with annoyance but then relaxed back to normal. Sawyer gently rubbed his hand up and down the boy’s back.

“Is there anything I didn’t cover?” Against Jack’s continued vacant look he said, “Did you even care to hear any of what I _did_  tell you?”

Jack shook his head idly as he thought. Then realizing the motion could be perceived as an answer to the question, he said, “No, yeah, that’s- that’s good for now. It’s great. I’m just, uh,” he sucked in a breath, “I can’t believe he’s right there, you know, that we did that.”

“Mostly me,” Sawyer insisted.

“Yeah,” Jack grinned. “Yeah, mostly you.” He reached forward with his hand but dropped it before he ever got close, to Hank or to Sawyer. “It’s surreal, I guess. I spent... three years just... thinking about this, just thinking. I suppose I never really believed I’d be here. It doesn’t seem real.”

“I get that,” Sawyer said. “But we got the time if you wanna take it. Tomorrow I’ll see to Sayid, and then we can relax a little while before the next inevitable calamity hits.”

Sawyer played himself off as calm and passive, but Jack could see that he was anxious, worried. Of what could not be said, but it could easily be a dozen things.

“We’re just supposed to stay here, in the past?” Jack questioned. Sawyer’s light expression fell, and it was obvious that Jack’s rash actions and dissatisfaction with stagnation were one of his concerns. “We don’t belong here, Sawyer.”

“Woman on the island gave birth yesterday,” Sawyer said, a seemingly random statement. “Juliet saved ‘em, mom and baby both. The father missed it. I was the one that gave him the news. And you know what he said back at me?” Jack shook his head. “‘Sorry, Jim,’ he said, ‘I know that’s gotta be a sore subject for you.’”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, and he really, truly was. “You know I would’ve been there if I could. You know how much I _wanted_  to be there.”

“You could’ve jumped too, like Hurley said. Just jumped off that chopper. You and me, we coulda...” He stopped himself before he got carried away. He had obviously thought about it a hundred times, wondering why Jack had not followed, but when the moment came to say it, he gave up.

“I thought we’d be able to come back,” Jack said. “I didn’t know the boat would... And then the island disappeared. You had to have known I had every intention of coming back. You knew how badly I wanted you off the island.”

“Just not as bad as you wanted yourself off,” Sawyer said. He was at war with himself, struggling between peace and passive aggression. “It’s okay though, Jack, that’s why I jumped. ‘Cause everybody on that helicopter wanted off more than me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said again. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t come back. I am so... damn... sorry that I missed out on being here with you, for the birth, for everything. If I could go back,” he swore, “I’d do it. I’d jump.”

“No,” Sawyer said, refuting the statement so simply. “No, you wouldn’t have, Jack. Because you needed off this island too damn bad. It was your obsession, your white whale. But it’s good you went. Thank God and praise be. ‘Cause now you’ve given that life up too. Now you’re here because you chose to be. So,” he exhaled, somehow content, “I’m glad you didn’t jump. Took me awhile to get to that mindset, but I am. ‘Cause I couldn’t’ve taken three years of you bein’ stuck here when you didn’t wanna be. You were enough of a pain in the ass after three months.”

Jack was not sure if he was supposed to laugh at the last statement or apologize once more for the entirety of what Sawyer said, for the grains of truth inside it. He did neither.

“What did you tell them?” he asked instead, curious. “The Dharma people, what did you tell them about- about me? Or... about Hank’s father?” What a tricky world aliases and double lives were when those two things could not be the same publicly.

Sawyer took his glasses off and rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. “Our cover story is we were a salvage ship that got caught in a reef. Us five were the only survivors. When I knew for sure I was pregnant, I said that my,” he stopped for a second, not quite wanting to say, “my husband... was one of the ones that didn’t make it.”

“Husband,” Jack repeated in a whisper.

“Yeah.” Sawyer scratched his head, looking awkward and needing something to do with the hand not holding Hank. “Yeah, it’s still the 70s here, Doc. ‘Husband’ sounds a whole lot better than ‘ex-boyfriend of less than a week who hopped on and flew off in a helicopter.’ You know how old fashion some people can be.”

In an attempt at humor, Jack said, “I thought it was two weeks.” It made Sawyer crack a grin.

“Well,” he replied, “maybe I was just counting from when we went splitsville at the cockpit. You went your way, I went with Locke. Felt like a lot better break-up than when I jumped out of a moving chopper.”

“I like the helicopter one,” Jack said. “It’s a pretty fitting end to all we ever went through together. A lot more dramatic.”

“You say ‘end’... yet here you are,” Sawyer spoke.

“Here I am.”

“Will you stay?” he asked. “Will you sit your ass down for once and try not to do anything stupid?”

“We don’t belong here,” Jack said again.

“We could,” Sawyer insisted. “And for three years we have.” He moved to sit forward but dropped back down when he remembered the sleeping toddler on him. “There’s nothin’ wrong with takin’ a rest, Jack. We’ve earned it after all the crap we been through. It’s good here. I got Juliet and the boys. Hank’s got a couple little friends he runs around with. There’s even that damn playground where I push him on the swing. It’s a good place to live, to have a family.”

“Sure,” Jack scoffed, “right up until Ben kills everyone.”

“Ten years is a long time,” Sawyer said. “We can’t stop it from happenin’, but we can be happy ‘til it does. Stay here, Jack. Stay with us. You and Kate, Hurley and Sayid. We’ll find Sun too, and then we don’t have to worry about nothin’ for ten long years.”

It sounded like a child’s dream, all happiness, no reality, no consequences. “Nothing’s ever so neat,” Jack said. “Not for us. Or did you forget that the only reason you have a son to raise here in the 70s is because you ran out of suppressants after a damn _plane crash_?”

Sawyer slapped him. It was no fist, only an open hand. The purpose was not to hurt Jack physically but to let him realize he crossed a line.

“I’m putting Hank to bed,” he said before standing up. He held the boy against his chest and walked down the hall.

Jack sat there. He counted to five. He followed Sawyer.

There was an open door with a dim light inside. Jack peaked in and saw the perfect little boy’s room. It had blue walls with toy cars on the floor and building blocks scattered between them.

“Not sleepy,” he heard a little voice mumble.

“Now,” Sawyer squatted down in front of the toddler bed, “you and I both know that ain’t true, don’t we?” He pulled a star covered blanket up the bed, and Hank obediently stuck his feet underneath it. “You just wanna play. But it’s way past your beddy-bye time, little man. So I want you to lay on down and gimme a kiss and then shut them eyes back closed.”

Jack watched what he could see around the man’s broad shoulders. Hank laid down and then Sawyer gave him a kiss.

“I love you,” he said.

“Love you,” the boy yawned.

Jack backed out into the hall. Sawyer walked quietly across the room and shut the door behind himself. He was not surprised to see Jack there.

“Breakfast is at seven,” he said. “Your choice if you wanna take it in the mess hall or... or here.” He kicked the toe of his boot against the hardwood floor and watched its mindless tapping. “In case you wanted to see him when he’s awake. Up to you, Jack.”

Sawyer tried to walk away but Jack grabbed his arm. “That’s it?” he asked. “I mean, it’s been three years. We still... we have so much more to talk about.”

“Do we?” Sawyer replied. “‘Cause I ain’t exactly itchin’ for news from the mainland. It doesn’t mean anything out here. And I already told you plenty about Hank for one night.”

“Fine.” Jack nodded. “Yeah, let’s talk about you then.”

Sawyer looked to the closed door behind him then back down the hall to the living room. He sighed. “How long a talk you wantin’?” he asked. “Is it a beer conversation, or should I put the coffee on?”

A beer sounded good. It sounded really good. But if he drank one, he would so easily fall victim to a second and then three, maybe four. Jack knew the symptoms of withdrawal and addiction. He knew that in spite of every realized desire he had wanted, his mind was still thinking about the pills he craved and the booze he needed. It was a pathetic weakness he dared not let Sawyer know about.

“I got nowhere to be anytime soon,” he said. “Coffee sounds good.”

“Coffee it is then.”

They waited for coffee and did not talk before its completion. Sawyer watched over the pot, and Jack paced around the room, noting how all the furniture looked like something from his grandparents’ house when he was a kid. There were not many personal touches unique to the inhabitants that lived there— some books, a framed picture of an infant he assumed was his son.

“I know we dated a whoppin’ two weeks,” Sawyer called from the kitchen, “but I don’t know how you take your coffee. So help yourself.” He walked into the living room sipping on his own.

Jack made a cup to his standard and sat on the couch he had before, as Sawyer did his chair. They drank.

There were probably better options for breaking the ice than what Jack chose. “So... how are your heats?” he asked, a sudden, and graceless question that tripped and fell into a conversation. He hoped it sounded clinical. “How are you... How are you dealing with them?”

Sawyer shook his head with a snickering laugh, as though he expected Jack would ask. “Boy, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Jack tried to take the question back, but Sawyer told him he would answer it. “Let’s see, I didn’t have any during the pregnancy, of course. And then none for about a year or so after because of, uh— he was— ‘cause of the... suckling.” He gestured in the general vicinity of his chest. “Somethin’ to do with hormones. Now though,” he said, “now the Dharma Initiative keeps me all nice and doped up.”

“Wow,” Jack said, choosing to take away the fact that, “you... you breastfed.” He felt surprised, dazed by an image he could not summon. “I would liked to have seen that.”

“And I bet you would have, you pervert.” He patted his chest. It made a firm smack. “Nothin’ now. Not that there was ever much of anything to begin with. But the tank’s all dried up and I’m back down to normal.”

“Good,” Jack said. “That’s good for- for you.” He felt like a nervous idiot, saying the wrong thing over and over. Sawyer did not seem to care though. In fact, watching Jack try was amusing for him. “And why?” Jack asked after clearing his throat, trying to wipe the slate and win back a little dignity in the discussion. “Why Hank Williams?”

Sawyer sat back and put his feet up on the table. He took a drink of coffee. “Guess I had a couple names,” he sighed. “In the end it was between him and Mister Cash, and I didn’t want our Locke boy comin’ back and getting the wrong idea towards flattery.” He shrugged. “Man though, did I have a mad craving for some good ol’ country back then. Guess bein’ in the family way made me nostalgic or somethin’. Damn near wore out a Hank Williams record. Hell,” he chuckled, “I’m just surprised the boy didn’t come out playin’ a six string.”

“Any song in particular?” Jack inquired.

“What, you think maybe I sang me a little of that ‘I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry’?” Sawyer scoffed. “Don’t get too high on yourself, Jack. I missed you, but I didn’t _miss_  you, if you get what I’m sayin’.”

“It was an innocent question,” Jack told him. “I’m not... I don’t even know any Hank Williams songs.”

“That’s a sin right there,” Sawyer said, shaking his head. “I’d put you one on for a listen, but... Well, now’s maybe not the best time.”

“Maybe not,” Jack agreed. “So...” He looked around Sawyer’s little house, perfect for all he needed. “Head of security. How’d you manage to keep that up when you were, uh, pregnant?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he said. “Couple months in, I switched to monitor duty in a nice, secure, gloomy as a graveyard basement. Boring as hell too. And then I stayed down there until about two months after he was born. Been on active duty ever since, callin’ all the shots.” Sawyer took a long drink then lowered his mug and held it with both hands. He drummed his fingers up and down the porcelain finish. “So,” he said, “what you been up to?”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Like I said it don’t amount to much of nothin’ out here. But I think you’ve ran out of things to ask, and I still have half a cup left.” He held up his coffee.

“Uh,” Jack hummed, trying to think of what to say, of how he could keep it all succinct and interesting. “We made up a story for the public saying only us six survived.”

“Whole world thinks I’m dead?” Sawyer questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He did not have an opinion on that one way or the other. “Right, go on.”

“We said that Aaron was Kate’s. It helped with, uh... It helped.” Jack could have danced around the truth for a long time. He could have lied outright and maybe never been caught. But for some reason he felt guilty even trying. “We were together,” he confessed. “Me and Kate, we... we lived together. We were... raising Aaron together.”

Sawyer nodded his head, absorbing the information. Seeing Jack’s waiting expression, he raised an eyebrow. “Sorry,” he said, “am I supposed to get jealous?” He chuckled. “I don’t give a damn. Hell, I figured you two would start taggin’ each other. But then I hear all that past tense too, ‘were together’, ‘lived together’, which means you went and screwed things up, like you do.” Jack wanted to argue, but there was nothing to dispute. It had been his fault. “Only part I can’t wrap my head around is Kate and a baby.” He shook his head and it cleared some of his amusement. He looked just a little more serious. “So you... you were playin’ daddy?”

“Yeah.” And it was silly of Jack to think that Sawyer would be jealous of anything except that single facet of his story. “Yeah, for a little while. I needed it, James. Kate understood. I... I played with Aaron, and I read to him in bed at night.” Jack was not sure if it was what Sawyer wanted answered or if it was what he never wanted to hear. “I sang him the song that I wanted to for Hank, like my old man did for me.” He could have gone on, but doing so felt cruel.

Sawyer set his cup of coffee on the table. Empty or not, he was done with it. He stood and Jack knew they were finished talking for the night. He sat forward, ready to stand, but Sawyer put a hand against his shoulder, pushing him back down.

“What—”

“Shut up,” Sawyer told him. “Just shut up.” He dug one knee into the couch and knelt on it. He stuck his other leg between Jack and the couch’s arm, seating himself in his lap. Slowly, he raised his hands, dragging them up Jack’s arms and over his shoulders, around his neck.

Jack was obediently silent.

It was close-lipped and innocent, as though Sawyer had forgotten how to kiss anyone or anything that was not a toddler’s forehead. Jack gave only what he got, uncertain of what was happening and not wanting to push it. Sawyer changed the angle, back and forth. Eventually he moved away and nuzzled his cheek against Jack’s. He stayed there, facing the wall. Jack faced the room with eyes closed.

“Would you take it the wrong way if I asked you to follow me to my bedroom and turn off all the lights?” Sawyer whispered. He was so close. His breath was a warm tickle on Jack’s neck.

“What’s the right way to take it?” Jack asked, tiptoeing through the delicate exchange.

“I’m a single daddy,” Sawyer told him, never climbing from that hushed tone. “I got needs, Doc.”

“Juliet...”

“Is a friend.” Sawyer sat back. His hand dipped low, cupping Jack’s own. He brought it to his face, making a puppet of him, forcing Jack to touch his stubbled jaw, slightly swollen from where he had been hit earlier. “And the one time we tried it things got weird.”

Jack took his hand away. “Of course you tried it first,” he scoffed, unsurprised.

“And you jumped right in the sack with Kate,” Sawyer countered. “I think you’d still be with her too if you hadn’t got in your own damn way.”

“And I’m supposed to believe things didn’t work with Juliet because you missed me?” Jack stated. “Is that it?”

“No,” Sawyer drawled. “Things didn’t work with Juliet because the woman was already too damn familiar with my nether region. Apparently you don’t come back from watchin’ somebody give birth.”

“Oh.”

“But,” Sawyer went on, “seeing as how you were absent for that particular ‘miracle’, I thought I might still have a shot gettin’ my rocks off with you. Am I wrong?”

Jack shook his head but felt the obligation to warn, “It’s a bad idea.”

“I been comin’ up with good ideas for three years,” he said. “I’m due for a bad one. Hell, I earned it.”

Sawyer kissed him, deeper, more motivated, and it was good. It was everything Jack remembered without even the obscuring cloud of a heat to force it. But that memory only made him think to ask, “How do you wanna do this? I mean, you’re not... you’re not in heat. I’ll understand if you don’t want to go all the way. I remember you’re not into guys.” They both laughed at that.

“Well, I don’t want hands, Jack,” he said. “I’ve had enough of my own for three years.”

Jack pulled away. “Are you saying...” He sucked in a breath, utterly surprised by that. “All this time? For three years?”

“I’ve been busy,” Sawyer explained defensively. “And let’s just say people were having casual sex in the 70s, but these eggheads ain’t exactly made the discovery yet.”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, “right. Three years though?”

“Are you gonna sit there questioning the particulars of my fornications— or lack thereof,” Sawyer asked, “or are you gonna go back there and fuck me?”

Jack exhaled and it was shaky. His cheeks felt hot. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Sawyer said, but he stood up and he started down the hall anyway, arrogantly certain Jack would follow.

He did.

There was a lamp on by the bed. It gave just enough light that Jack could see how bare the room was. The walls were a bland cream color, no doubt the default. There was no art on the walls nor knickknacks scattered about. The sheets on the bed— and the blankets— were white. Curtains were not for decoration, but privacy. All furniture was necessary.

“It’s a lot different,” Jack commented, “than Hank’s room.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, looking around. “It’s your basic nesting instinct versus not giving a damn.” Jack began unsnapping the buttons of his ridiculous jumpsuit. “Shut the door first,” Sawyer hissed at him, a commanding whisper. “And lock it too. Damn, you’re actin’ like you never tangoed with a kid in the house before.”

“Sorry,” Jack said with a grin, amused by Sawyer’s order. His concern was sweet, and Jack did as told.

Once they were shut in together an awkwardness set in. They both seemed doggedly anxious to pick up right where they left off, and they undressed with a fervor to match that strong desire. But there was no erasing the three years between them, and there was no ignoring the distance there now. Jack stood on one side of the bed with Sawyer on the other, undressing alone, as they were each so used to doing.

Sawyer finished first, all the way down to his sky blue boxers. Then he dropped down on the bed, not a bouncing jump of excitement, but not his calm routine either. He pushed the blanket down the bed and reclined into the sheets, waiting.

Jack kicked his pants off— Sawyer’s pants loaned to him— and wasted no more time in joining him. He laid over Sawyer’s body in the dim room, its light pulled unevenly to one side of the bed from one lamp. Jack touched with hesitation, almost afraid. His hand reached for Sawyer’s side, but the fingers curled in before meeting.

Sawyer initiated contact by putting a hand on either side of Jack’s face and pulling him down for a kiss.

It held a history they barely had. It bluffed familiarity and routine, and had Jack not known better, he might have thought they kissed every day for three years. There was such ease to it, such rightness. They were good together. They moved against and away from each other at perfect intervals. It felt natural to kiss Sawyer. It always had.

Growing emboldened from the chemistry in their kiss, the warmth it gave him, Jack moved on. His lips lingered long and sensually against Sawyer’s, but eventually they did drift, trailing down his jaw, mouthing at the evening stubble, kissing the dark bruise he had dealt. On Sawyer’s neck, Jack bit and sucked, wanting to leave a mark like an over-amorous teenager. Sawyer’s long hair would hide it, but Jack still wanted to give it. He combed his fingers through that hair, finding he missed it more than he thought. He missed being with an omega more than he thought, his omega.

Sawyer moaned through all he did, not currently in heat but still so sensitive after an absence of being used. He rubbed hard hands into Jack’s bare back and scratched when he started to leave a hickey. “Son of a bitch,” Sawyer gasped. He sounded angry, but it was smothered by all else, by stimulation and want and pleasure. “If anybody sees that I’m gonna kick your ass, Shephard.”

Jack grinned, stretching his lips around the skin in his teeth. He let go. “It’s back far enough,” he said. Then he pulled away for a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re good.”

He moved his hands down Sawyer’s body, outlining him through the scant slack the man’s clutching arms allowed. Jack’s eyes followed where his hands went, watching their descent upon a flat, taut abdomen.

There was no sign of what had been, none except the thin scratches down his stomach, the faintly lighter skin that must have once been stretch marks.

“It wasn’t a pretty sight,” Sawyer told him, guessing his thoughts. “Complained a lot too. I was a horrible pregnant person. You’d’ve hated it.”

“No,” Jack said. He descended Sawyer’s body and kissed his stomach, once, then twice, then over and over, intending to cover every inch. “I wouldn’t have hated it.”

“No,” he agreed with a sigh, “probably not, you damn alpha.”

Sawyer raked scratching fingers through Jack’s hair as the praising kisses moved up. Jack wrapped his lips around Sawyer’s raised nipple and sucked while gently biting, once more imagining what was passed.

“Hate to— mm, break it to you, hoss,” Sawyer spoke, voice catching with a groan, “but that ain’t as sexy as it might’ve been. Your son saw to that.”

His son. Jack wanted to chuckle and grin at how ordinary it was, at how they were just two parents having sex. And everything outside of it slunk into shadow. When he was with Sawyer the world disappeared, heat or no heat. Jack missed it.

He gave up on that stimulation and shifted down with other thoughts in mind, desperate to make everything up to Sawyer, to make their time together worthwhile and give him a good night.

Jack held the waistband of Sawyer’s underwear in his hand and ran his thumb back and forth over the bunched elastic.

Sawyer was not nearly so patient nor halting as Jack and lifted his hips off the bed so he could grab his boxers and pull them off himself. “Catch up, Jack.”

“In a minute,” he promised. Sawyer was mostly hard already from anticipation. Jack would push him further. “I wanted to do this for you before,” he said, “but you were in heat. It would’ve been unfair— a tease, if anything.” An omega in heat needed a knot to come, and Jack was not nearly flexible enough to do both.

Before Sawyer had time to question him, Jack dropped down and put his lips around Sawyer’s cock, just the tip for starters. The skin was warm in his mouth. It was soft flesh with hard tension beneath. Jack stuck his tongue against it, licking and pressing.

“Oh, god that’s good,” Sawyer panted. “I don’t even care that you ain’t done this before.” Jack wanted to make a joke, to smile and ask if it was really that obvious, but his mouth was full.

He took what he could manage through his inexperience and moved down in the smallest increments, adjusting. The first few inches were nothing but a novelty. Jack took it well enough, going up and down, in and out, applying the sort of pressure and use of tongue he liked himself. He could not go all the way though, and he gagged when he tried. But Sawyer was pleasantly understanding and enjoyed what there was. He was very vocal and supportive. But eventually he could take no more.

“Enough,” Sawyer said, pushing against Jack’s shoulders. “You gotta stop before you finish me off and I come to my senses... And I ain’t done with you yet,” he added with a smirk.

Jack chuckled and wiped a trail of spit from his chin. “You’re still sure you want to go all the way?” he asked, desperately wanting to himself, needing it now that he was all worked up. However, a bad idea was still a bad idea, and it was always wise to make the decision together.

“Absolutely,” Sawyer said. “Now take those off.” He raised his knee up and fondled Jack through his boxers. “Make us even.” He hummed an off-tune stripper song while Jack removed his underwear, and when they were gone he exclaimed, “Looky there, Jack and his beanstalk, my favorite bedtime story.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jack laughed. He tossed his boxers on the floor with everything else.

“Maybe,” Sawyer said with a wide grin that showed off his dimples. Jack leaned down over him again and Sawyer objected. “Ah-ah,” he said. “I ain’t in heat, and I’m not too fond of the idea of you goin’ down the waterslide when it doesn’t have any water.”

“Right,” Jack realized. “Where—”

“Top drawer.”

Jack looked from nightstand to nightstand. One had its lamp turned on; its surface was free of dust with a book on top. The other was empty. He wanted to claim it as his own. He wanted to live with Sawyer and sleep in the same bed as Sawyer and together realize all those other plans that never took off. It would have to come after.

Jack reached for the drawer of the first nightstand. There were pens, a notepad, a flashlight, and stray papers from the Dharma Initiative. Stuffed into the far back corner was the lube he was after. He grabbed it.

He looked at the tube. It curled at the bottom where it had already been rolled up halfway to completion. It was one of the few things he had seen that did not have the Dharma logo printed on its side.

“My little piece of contraband,” Sawyer said. “Helps for when I’m doin’ the hand jive.”

“You sure we need it?” Jack questioned. Sawyer was already hard with a cock that would not lay completely flat against his stomach. Jack imagined he was wet below as well.

“It helps,” Sawyer told him, and those two monosyllabic words betrayed a story of lonely nights and a bigger use for lube than a handjob. “Normal every day me ain’t got nothin’ on that heat mess. And if we’re doin’ this, I’d like the version where I’m able to concentrate on my work tomorrow, thank you very much.”

Jack thought of Sawyer’s long ago confession, how the soreness after sex made him think of Jack for days. He wondered if the spell still held.

“Condoms?” Jack asked, seeing none in the drawer.

“Uh,” Sawyer thought, “don’t have any. The need hasn’t exactly come up.” He pushed up on his elbows and looked Jack in the eye. “That gonna be a problem?”

“No,” Jack said, speaking before he fully understood the question or the risk behind his answer. “No,” he said again. He shoved all thought of consequence from his mind.

“Well then.” Sawyer laid back down against his sheets and pillows and spread open his legs, needing Jack like every time before, needing him now from want and not necessity.

Jack moved closer and leaned down, bracing himself on the hard muscle of Sawyer’s thigh, pushing it back even further with his weight. The man was stunning laid out under Jack like that. Some things never changed.

Sawyer’s skin was hot, and if Jack did not know better— if he had even less control over what remained of his senses— he might have thought the man was in heat.

Jack’s fingers twitched, desperate to touch but nervous all the same. Sawyer nagged at him to move it along, and he obeyed.

“You didn’t prepare yourself this time,” Jack observed, seeing how tight he was.

“My apologies,” Sawyer stated sarcastically, “for not predicting the date of your arrival or havin’ the time between then and now to do something about it.”

Jack stuck the tip of his index finger in and that shut Sawyer up very quickly. “I’m gonna watch you do this yourself one day,” he said.

“Just not today,” Sawyer replied. Then he gave an order of, “More. More, damn it.”

Jack pressed his finger in all the way. Sawyer was wet, and it went easily. Jack did not think they needed the lube at all, but neither did he want to embarrass Sawyer, to remark on how excited he was to be fucked again, like an omega.

One finger got Sawyer used to foreign feel, used to him. The second was more practical in stretching him out, but it was not enough to satisfy.

“You ever have a memory that hits you like a sledgehammer?” Sawyer said between deep breaths, trying, and failing, to speak like everything going on was normal. “‘Cause right now I’m rememberin’ that you’re a goddamned tease.”

“Slow and steady,” Jack said with a faint grin, amused by his eagerness.

“Now, you know I like it fast and rough,” Sawyer insisted. He groaned as Jack massaged inside him. He tightened up in surprise of it, squeezing hard on Jack’s fingers, clenching on them with his wet hole. “Another,” he said.

Jack complied to the demand. He pushed a third finger in. There was a momentary pressure as he fit, but Sawyer opened for him so nicely. He was so eager for it, so slick because of it. Jack forsook, ignored, and abandoned the lube as it was knocked around in the sheets.

Sawyer panted and moaned and gave very enthusiastic, very filthy words of encouragement. But all of them were kept in a low, quiet register. He was a father at all hours.

“That’s it. That’s it,” he said, grunting as Jack spread his fingers and stretched that puckering skin out around them. “That’s good. You’re good. That’ll do it. Get in there, Jack. C’mon, I need you.”

Jack pulled out, meeting Sawyer’s decision of readiness with his own. After three years of missing and wanting and substituting, he could wait no more.

“God, you look so beautiful,” Jack moaned, gazing greedily upon that tanned skin against those white sheets.

Sawyer grinned at compliment and memory. “You always say that,” he murmured softly.

“It’s always true.” Jack dragged his hands up and down the skin of Sawyer’s thighs. “But this, you, in a bed,” he said, “that’s the best sight I could ask for.”

“Well, go on and break this bed in, Jack,” he said. “‘Cause I need at least one memory of us doin’ it where I got somethin’ softer than a blanket under me.”

“You’re sure?” Jack asked with a hard swallow, giving him one last chance to change his mind.

“Just fuck me,” Sawyer groaned, completely exasperated by him.

Jack chuckled and shuffled closer, moving in between Sawyer’s widely parted legs. He was so wet and needy. “You want this?” Jack said, taking his cock in hand and pressing it so lightly against Sawyer’s hole. “I’m guessing you do, James, because I didn’t use any of that lube you gave me. This is all you.”

“Stop teasin’,” Sawyer said, but his head was pushed back into the pillow and his eyes were half closed. His body twitched. He loved it.

“You waited three years,” Jack said, “three years for me to come back and fuck you. Tell me you want it.”

“I’m not in heat,” Sawyer said sternly. “I’m not doin’ what you say, Jack. So just go already.”

“Tell me,” Jack said. He needed to know. After so long apart, after trying and failing to move on, Jack needed to know it meant more than a quick fix. He needed something in his life to be right. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you... Tell me you need me, James.” His words were desperate. And it was that bare desperation which made Sawyer answer him.

“I need you, Jack,” he said. He nodded his head. “You, I need you. So do it.”

Jack exhaled, fulfilled on the sound of those words. He pushed inside.

It was warm, hot like in his memories, distant as they were. Sawyer breathed hard through his nose as Jack pressed further in.

“God,” Sawyer moaned. “God, that’s it. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Jack.”

It felt so good to go in bareback. Jack could not help but remember the night they conceived their son. He wanted to speak to Sawyer as he had then. He wanted to sweetly promise and crudely threaten he would impregnate him. His alpha mind wanted the words to spew from his mouth. But Jack remembered, clearly as ever, exactly how open Sawyer was to the suggestion. They had many matters left to discuss. Another child was not one of them.

“You feel so good, James,” he said instead, harmless words of flattery and sex. “You’re so tight, so wet.” Jack pulled his hips away before pushing back in, exciting them both with the stimulation. “I want to knot you so bad,” he said on a ragged exhale, feeling as it began to swell at the base of his cock.

“Do it,” Sawyer said, and the command took Jack by surprise. “Knot my ass, Jack.”

It was several swinging thrusts before Jack could clear his mind enough to say, “You’re sure?” He would ask only once. He wanted it too badly to talk Sawyer out of the decision.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yes, yes,” he groaned, breaking off distractedly as Jack thrust hard, spurred on by his answer. One of Sawyer’s hands clenched the sheets and the other grabbed Jack’s arm, holding on for the ride. “Yes, yes. God, yes. Right there. Don’t stop, Jack. Keep goin’. Gimme that knot of yours.” He lifted his head off the pillow as if he could see the angle of penetration.

Sawyer let his hand drag down Jack’s arm, a hard grip that squeezed and tightened as it went. He met Jack’s hand where it held on at his hip and then he moved over, grabbing onto that omega cock of his. He did not jerk it. He only squeezed and flicked his thumb over the tip, provoking himself but gripping hard to prolong the finale.

“You wanna come on my knot, James?” Jack asked. “Is that what you’re waiting for?”

“Yes,” Sawyer answered. His shoulders raised off the bed as he leaned forward and tried to keep an easier grip on himself. “I’m ready for you, Jack. You ready to give it to me yet?”

“Almost,” Jack said. “Almost there. Just another minute.”

He pushed in and out, reveling in the exiting squeeze of Sawyer’s rim around the head of his cock. He was almost there— his knot nearly full, his climax on the edge— when Sawyer threw a last minute change into the plan.

“Behind,” he said, hurriedly and through a worn out, heaving breath. “Let’s— from behind.”

Jack pulled out and Sawyer quickly rolled over onto his knees, one hand supporting himself and the other still on his cock. Jack wasted not a second in penetrating him again. He buried himself back deep and thrust away, now laying over Sawyer’s sweaty back.

“Okay,” Jack said, his warning, “here it comes. Here it comes, James.” He stopped thrusting and instead just pushed, feeling the beginning pressure on his knot. Sawyer cried out from the strain, and Jack tried to soothe him. He put his hand over Sawyer’s and encouraged him to jerk himself off, to bring on completion. “That’s it,” Jack murmured as he sunk in a little farther. “That’s it, baby.” Pet names and endearments fell from him like they were natural. “Just a little more, James. Just a little—” He slipped inside.

It was tight and good in every way that he remembered. Jack began to come inside Sawyer as he came on both their hands with a quick, aborted grunt.

Sawyer went silent and still. Jack pulled them over onto the bed, where they laid and caught their breath. After a few seconds, Jack asked, “You okay?”

Sawyer shook his head, not daring to speak just yet. He breathed in hard through his nose and shakily out his mouth. “Shut up, shut up,” he rasped, voice stressed and thin. “That really... Damn, that hurts when you’re sober.”

Jack brushed away strands of blond hair with his fingers, shushing Sawyer and trying to take his mind off it. “You’ll be okay,” he murmured. Normally Sawyer would reply with something witty and sarcastic, so Jack could tell how bad off he was when nothing came. It was like one of those instances of immense pain, a banged elbow or stubbed toe, when you want the world to leave you alone for just a minute, sixty full seconds.

“Lord a’mighty, I am not doin’ that again,” Sawyer finally said. He sniffed loudly and shook his head. “If I try, you slap me upside the head, you hear?”

“Understood.”

“Whoo,” Sawyer huffed, “I must be some kind of masochist in heat.”

“It’s your brain protecting you,” Jack explained. “Chemical reactions, they dull pain and enhance pleasure. Your body lies to protect itself. Similar to how people experience a euphoric rush after giving birth.”

“Now that one is a lie,” Sawyer told him. “There was no special moment of bliss. I didn’t get high off my own brain chemistry. Just a painful before, a painful after, and a middle so bad I just about took a scalpel to my gut and dragged the boy out the other way.”

Jack chuckled softly and they went quiet again, neither really knowing what to say. It felt awkward between them, but it was at least manageable and acknowledged. Time was their greatest enemy, the dominating three years and all its changes. Tension came from them both wanting to pretend it never happened, just for a little while. There was nothing to keep them apart, not physically, not chronologically.

“Why didn’t you wanna face me?” Jack asked. “You turned around, you... Why?”

“Don’t go gettin’ offended. We’ve done it eye to eye under worse circumstances than this,” Sawyer said. “That’s not why.”

He would not volunteer the explanation, and Jack felt it was an answer that would have to be guessed at first. Sawyer’s hesitance meant shame. Jack knew him decently enough to take a stab at why. “Is the reason,” he asked slowly, “the reason you wanted to knot from behind... Is it because you wanted me to hold you?”

He wrapped his arm tighter around Sawyer. He placed his hand a little firmer on his breast.

Sawyer was quiet for a full minute. Then he pressed back closer against Jack’s chest. “It’s been a long time,” he admitted, “a long time since there was anybody to do the job.”

Sawyer was as Jack remembered him: a strong omega who put up walls of pride and systems of control to hide the fact that he wanted what all members of his gender— what all members of their species— did. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be comforted. He wanted to be touched. He wanted to feel like he was not alone.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Jack said, making certain Sawyer had not forgotten that. “You know I won’t judge you.”

“I know, Jack.” He was grateful for the opportunity, but that did not make it any easier to drop his defenses.

Jack kissed his bare shoulder, dewy with a drying sweat.

Sawyer was the first to break the illusion of time, to unfold the map and lay bare the true distance between two places. “I bet Kate never let you do this, huh?” His voice was a low, hissing laugh as he pulled his hips forward and tugged on Jack’s knot.

“Nope,” Jack said, “only you. Only ever you.” Betas could not take it without effort and training. Most would not try. It was another reason why Jack missed being with an omega. Sawyer had spoiled him with the knowledge of how good knotting felt. Jack kissed his neck, right over the dark mark he had left there. “But do you really wanna talk about Kate right now?”

“No.”

Jack knew why he asked after her. He was jealous. Even though Jack’s relationship with Kate had fizzled out to nothing, Sawyer was jealous over any time she had that he did not. He competed with her, perhaps without even being aware he was. But it was not Jack the lover he passively fought for. It was Jack the father he wanted. And Jack knew it.

“I still can’t imagine Kate with a kid,” Sawyer said, keeping her in the conversation even when he said he did not want to.

“She’s good at it,” Jack said. “But so are you. You’re great actually. It’s kind of surprising, if I’m being honest.”

“What’d you expect?” Sawyer asked, and it was not a question asked out of offense. He was genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Jack answered. “I knew you wanted a baby. But you were still you. I remembered... everything you ever said or did, and I guess... I guess some things are just hard to imagine.” He moved his fingers as he thought, scratching Sawyer’s chest with nails that did not dig. “That you changed so much for Hank, for the people you took charge of, it’s surprising, James. But it’s a good surprise.”

“Thank you, Jack,” he said. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Jack laughed despite himself. “Not at all, huh?”

“Well, maybe a little,” Sawyer conceded. “You’re a bit more willin’ to take orders. You’re a lot more sad.”

“I missed you,” Jack said, telling that fraction of the truth as though it excused how far he had fallen.

“Missed you too,” Sawyer said back. It was good to hear. Jack liked when Sawyer shared.

He could feel his knot pulsing inside Sawyer, hot and wet, tight and full. It was winding down in its enthusiasm, however. They would be done in a few minutes. But that he was there at all, inside of Sawyer and unprotected, made thoughts beat upon Jack’s mind. He wondered why he had been granted such a liberty.

“Do you ever think,” Jack questioned, disobeying common sense enough to ask, “about having... more children?”

“Every damn day,” Sawyer said, not spending even a second’s thought to attempt a lie. “Hank opened some floodgate I guess. I gave into the goddamn nature of it all, and now that door don’t close.” He shook his head. “But common sense is me tellin’ that little voice to piss right on off. I don’t need no more kids running around here. Plus, there ain’t exactly any good candidates in downtown Dharma to contribute. I got standards, you know.”

“Yeah,” Jack laughed. “Yeah, of course.”

Jack was kind enough to let the matter drop. It was Sawyer that kept it alive.

“I’d name it Shiloh,” he said in a quiet voice, thinking out loud or divulging guarded secrets. “Boy or girl, Shiloh.”

“It’s a nice name,” Jack said, speaking softly in his reply.

“Yeah, I always thought so.”

They were silent again. Jack let the name Shiloh skip and run and play in his head. Maybe after everything was resolved, after they were back in the time they belonged and Jack’s destiny was fulfilled, maybe he and Sawyer could discuss another child.

“I think I’m ready to pull out.”

“All right. Just do it quick,” Sawyer told him. “All at once, like rippin’ off a bandaid.” He took deep, level breaths, preparing himself.

Jack pulled out on the exhale. Sawyer grunted in discomfort, from sensitivity, but it was much easier and much smaller going out than going in.

A sticky, lewd mess followed him from Sawyer’s gaping hole. Jack tried to get a look at any damage dealt, but Sawyer clenched his thighs tight, denying him such access, clinical as it always was. Jack ignored it, assuming Sawyer did not want to drip anymore onto his sheets.

Jack laid on his side for a few seconds longer, tenderly rubbing Sawyer’s arm. Then he rolled over onto his back. “Well,” he laughed, feeling lighthearted, “I guess I’m having breakfast here.”

“You should go,” Sawyer said, uttering it so quickly after Jack’s remark that the two statements were almost on top of one another. Clearly he did not like Jack’s presumption that he got to stay overnight.

“What?” Jack pushed himself up in bed, leaning back on his arms. “You’re kicking me out? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“What if...” He huffed. “What if I don’t want to go?”

“I told you up front what this was, Jack,” he said. “You knew it was all about sex. So why don’t you just go ahead and go?”

“Because I don’t think you want me to,” Jack answered, gambling with a bold assertion. “No, I think you want me to stay right here. But even after all this time you’re too scared to admit that. So I’m not gonna make you.” Jack dropped back down on the bed, sinking his head into the pillow. “I’ll just stay right here, and if you really want me to leave, you can kick me out of the bed.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

Sawyer struck the mattress with an open palm. “Fine,” he growled. “Stay. See if I care.”

Jack tried not to grin at that, knowing he most certainly did care. He waited a moment to let the man’s temper settle. Then he rolled over and kissed Sawyer’s shoulder. He spoke softly in his ear, saying, “Why don’t you go shower? I can change the sheets if you want me to.”

Sawyer groaned, reluctant to move, but he pulled himself up. “Clean set in the closet,” he said. “Dump these wherever.”

His walk to the bathroom was an awkward one, and Jack could tell he was trying not to leak out on the floor. There was still a thin trail that ran down his leg. Jack would clean it.

He laid in the bed, digging his nose into Sawyer’s pillow in a way that could be regarded as creepy. But he missed the smell too greatly. And it was enthralling, even without Sawyer being in heat. He breathed in and out.

As soon as the water started, Jack got up and stripped the bed.

And when Sawyer pulled back the shower curtain Jack was waiting there, leaning against the vanity.

“Son of a bitch!” Sawyer exclaimed, reaching for his towel. “You tryin’ to give me a heart attack, Doc?”

“I was, uh...” Jack tried to speak, but his mind was preoccupied with other thoughts. He gestured to the medicine cabinet behind him. “I was looking for some sort of ointment to help with any irritation or soreness you might have.”

“I think I know my way around my own house,” Sawyer stated, “but thanks.” He shook his hair like a wet dog, and Jack felt a few drops hit him.

“You have condoms,” Jack blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore.

“Excuse me?”

“Condoms,” Jack repeated, “in your medicine cabinet. We could have used those.”

Sawyer shrugged and tied his towel around his waist. “Guess I forgot I had ‘em. Like I said, I don’t get much company.”

“No, I don’t think you did forget,” Jack argued. “You knew they were there. So why, Sawyer?”

“Drop it.”

“Why?” Jack demanded.

“You already know why,” Sawyer said. He would not look Jack in the eye.

“This is just like before,” Jack condescended with a short laugh. He shook his head in disbelief. “You go... insane when you want a baby.”

“Would you relax? I’m not in heat,” he said as though it were so obvious and Jack was an idiot to have missed it. “And I’m on suppressants. So don’t sweat it. You got nothin’ to worry about. Just a fun night of unprotected sex.”

“Heat is the best time for it,” Jack agreed, “but anyone that’s taken a high school health class knows it’s not the _only_  time. Still happens. And as for your suppressants,” he pointed back to the medicine cabinet, “your pills, they aren’t exactly birth control, Sawyer. And that’s speaking on the good stuff from our time. You’re taking medicine made in the 70s. It’s pharmaceutical garbage compared to today’s standards.”

“Well, it works just fine for the good folk of the 70s,” Sawyer replied. “And it’s worked fine for me over the last year.”

“And with only a dozen side effects per pill,” Jack criticized, “any one of which could easily be pregnancy.”

“Fine,” Sawyer relented, exhausted by Jack’s dogged pursuit of the subject, “I’ll go to the damn medical building tomorrow and take the damn morning after pill— provided it exists yet and that they stock it here. Oughta be real fun to explain,” he muttered under his breath.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jack sighed, backing out of the dispute. “I just... wish you’d been upfront with me, that’s all.”

“All right,” Sawyer said with a nod, “here’s the truth, Jack: I want another kid, like I said. But I still know better than to think it’s anything close to a good idea. So I threw caution to the wind and left it all up to destiny, the bitch.” His hands rested on his waist above the towel. He glanced down at the floor, watching his bare feet and the drops of water around them. “So no,” he said, looking over Jack’s shoulder at the medicine cabinet, “I’m not gonna get pregnant, Jack. But it felt good to pretend for a little while. And I am,” he paused on the word, reluctant to say, “sorry... for not telling you beforehand. But in my defense, you went ahead with it knowing there wasn’t no damn condom between us. So I gotta wonder where your head was at too.”

“Maybe...” Jack turned where stood. He put his hands on the vanity and leaned heavily against it. “Maybe I wanted another kid too. I’m, I don’t know... unfulfilled for not having seen things through with Hank.”

“Yeah, well...” Sawyer came up behind him. He put his head on Jack’s shoulder and leaned forward, smearing his hand across the steamed over mirror, looking at the two of them framed inside it. “To be such a charming sweetheart about the whole damn thing, you always did have a bit of that caveman alpha mentality goin’ on too.”

“It’s not that,” Jack denied.

“Isn’t it?”

He dropped his head. His chin bobbed low against his chest. “Maybe some of it,” he conceded. “It was just... It was my chance to finally prove that I could be a good father,” he sighed, “and I missed it.”

“You didn’t miss nothin’,” Sawyer said. He stood up straight, taking his head off Jack’s shoulder. “Birth, bein’ a baby, kids don’t remember none of that crap. Right about now’s when you gotta get in there. Year from now, he’s not gonna know you were absent for the rest. So it’s up to you, Jack. You ain’t failed at nothin’ yet because the test just started.”

Jack turned around and hugged Sawyer, bare and dripping wet as he was. “Why?” he asked. “Why are you trying to make me feel better?”

Sawyer patted his back. “I dunno,” he answered honestly. “Maybe I need you. Maybe I waited three damn years for you to come back. If you get scared first sign of doubt, if you run off, then I’m on my own again, me and Hank. And maybe he needs to know his daddy as much as I need an alpha. ‘Cause, brother, that bed gets cold at night.”

Jack pulled away. He rested his hands on the plunging curve of Sawyer’s shoulders. “You’ve grown up a lot in three years.”

Sawyer shook his head. “Nah,” he said, “just started takin’ on responsibilities, is all.”

“But you don’t need me,” Jack said, correcting him. “You never did. You’re a strong omega, Sawyer, the most self-reliant one I’ve ever met.”

“Hell yes to that,” he said with a laugh. “But I am an omega, Jack. And apparently all it took was givin’ birth before I could make my peace with it.” He looked around the room and made a gesture to indicate it, to indicate all of it: Hank, the house, the compound. “I been tryin’ to play house. And I’m one short. So yeah,” he said, admitting to what he had denied in bed earlier, “I want you to stay the night. And we’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

“We can’t stay here,” Jack said once more, feeling a cruel obligation to voice that undeniable truth. “In this time, we can’t.”

“Go get in the bed, Jack,” Sawyer ordered. It seemed that where so many things changed, one remained the same: Sawyer did not like discussing things in the moment. He stole solace and peace of mind from putting them off. “I’ll be right behind.”

Jack did as he was told. And a few minutes later Sawyer walked in to join him. He was wearing a white tank top with boxers and a still wet head of hair. He closed the door gently, quietly. His hand lingered on the lock, debating over whether he should turn it or not. He did.

“If there’s a little knock at three in the morning,” Sawyer told him, “you’re hidin’ in the closet.”

“Understood,” Jack said, agreeing to the command. After all, it was hardly how he wanted to meet his son for the first time. “He have nightmares?” Jack questioned. “Hank, does he... does he get up because he has nightmares?”

“Sometimes,” Sawyer said, and he blew out a tired breath. “Alarms go off here every so often. He knows there’s somethin’ to be afraid of. Just don’t know what it is. And kids... they got damn good imaginations.” Jack pulled the blanket back and Sawyer sat down beside him. “But mostly he’s just a two-year-old little brat that doesn’t want to stay in his own damn bed.”

“C’mere,” Jack said. He grabbed Sawyer and pulled him down. The man fit perfectly and warmly and contentedly right in his arms.

They enjoyed laying in bed together, though it felt too much like hiding from the world and its many problems. And in order to forestall that reality as long as possible, neither seemed to want to go to sleep, not if it meant waking up.

A dozen-and-a-half topics were on Jack’s mind, conversations to keep them awake that were daring or innocuous in equal measure. Sawyer spoke first though. And his subject was a risky secret that he chanced to reveal.

“I have a daughter.”

It was such an unexpected thing to hear, such a random assembly of words, that it took Jack a second to realize what was actually said.

“You... wha...” He took a deep breath that fed oxygen to his brain. “You have a daughter?” he finally asked. “When did this happen? Who’s the father?” Jack felt that dormant jealousy swirl in his gut and prickle the hairs on his neck.

Sawyer laughed at him. “Damn, you are one sexist bastard,” he said, and he was obviously trying his best not to be offended by the assumption. “But to answer your questions, in order: before I met you and I am. Not exactly shootin’ blanks here, Doc.”

“Right.” Jack shook his head, a clearing little twitch that rubbed his cheek against the pillow. “I’m sorry. That was...” He stopped, deciding it best to start over again. “Who’s her mother?”

“Some mark I conned awhile back,” Sawyer said. “My kid, my... daughter, her name’s Clementine. She’s gotta be about five or six by now, I guess. And I ain’t never met her, not once.”

“I can’t imagine her mother was too happy about being conned,” Jack said, assuming that was the reason why.

“It was my choice,” Sawyer told him. “I knew I was better out of her life than in it.”

“That’s not true,” Jack refuted, truly believing Sawyer was a good parent, though he had, as yet, no real evidence.

“Sure it is,” Sawyer replied. “Or at least it was. You said yourself how surprising the new me is. ‘Cause face it, Doc, who I was when we first met, that ain’t the kinda guy you want around your kids.”

Jack could argue no more because that fact was undeniable. The man who robbed the dead and stole supplies, who would sooner be tortured than truthful, who acted only when beneficial, he was not a man you raised a child with. Jack remembered that thought plain as day. He once held the same belief. He had not wanted a child with Sawyer. He did not think the man was capable of love or maturity. He was very wrong, and Sawyer was very capable.

“You think about her a lot?” Jack asked. “I’m guessing Hank probably makes you... think about her.”

“Yeah, but,” Sawyer sighed, “she won’t even be born for another twenty-five years, so it’s not much other than a thought. I just wanted to let you know why I’m so damn understanding about gettin’ you and Hank together. Don’t do what I did, not unless you think it’s for the right reason.”

“Thank you, James,” he said. “It really means a lot. And I’ll try...” Jack chuckled and it ridiculed his own limitations. “I’ll try not to mess things up.” He raised his hand from under the pillow and picked at Sawyer’s wet hair. “Why did you keep her— Clementine— from me?” he questioned. “This is important to you. You should’ve told me.” He knew why though. He already knew. And Sawyer confirmed it.

“Because I didn’t want you gettin’ jealous,” he said. “You got that streak of it in you. At first it was just my private business. Then once we started us a family... Well, I didn’t know for sure if you were one of those domineering alphas who’d resent kids not yours.”

“I told you I wasn’t,” Jack insisted. “I’m not. You had a life before me. I can understand that, James. I get it.”

“And what about my life after you?”

“Who says there has to be an after?” Jack spoke quiet and calm but full of emotion. He had tried to move on, but the man was under his skin. Jack imagined it was the same for Sawyer. They had ruined each other. No beta could ever touch the high. No alpha or omega would ever be more than second best behind a swarm of memory, of hot nights born from desperate need.

“You do,” Sawyer said. “‘Cause you’re a stubborn son of a bitch that insists on leavin’. Except I ain’t followin’ you, Jack. So you and me, ‘us’, we got another expiration date comin’ up.”

“I don’t want to leave the island,” Jack told him. “And I don’t plan to.”

“What, suddenly you love the island so much?” Sawyer scoffed. He did not believe Jack’s uncharacteristic adoration. It was obvious he thought it temporary at best and a lie at its worst.

“I tried to kill myself.”

The confession fell from him like a dirty trick, a shortcut that would prove just how serious he was.

Sawyer pulled away and sat up in the bed. “What?” he exclaimed. “When, why?”

“A week,” Jack thought, deciding that was about right. So much had changed in so brief a time. He rolled over onto his back and hid his eyes behind the palms of his hands, feeling the shame come upon him. “A week ago. I wanted back... back here. I flew across the Pacific I don’t know how... many times, just hoping, praying we would crash, that I could come back. And then a week... ago I see an obituary for Locke, for his alias. I thought with him dead I’d lost my last chance. I thought I’d never see the island again, never see you, never know if you lived, if our child lived.” Jack sniffed and rubbed his nose. “It was a low point, dark, really kind of dark. It definitely... It wasn’t the answer. I know that now.”

“You sure you know?” Sawyer demanded in a serious tone. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you just got lucky everything started going your way again. And I can’t have you hanging around Hank if you ain’t done wiggin’ out yet.” Jack laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said. He shook his head of the emotion. It was not funny. “Nothing. You just... you sounded like Kate just now. A couple months ago she told me to stay away from Aaron under kind of similar circumstances.”

“Are you done?” Sawyer asked again, refusing to be distracted. “Or are you still suicidal crazy?”

“I’m done,” Jack told him, the truth. “I’m done, James.” He patted the mattress beside himself. “You can lay back down.”

He did not. “Why’d you tell me?” he asked. “Why’d you put that on me? Think I haven’t held your hand and made you feel better enough for one night?”

“I told you... because I can’t tell anyone else,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone else. And I thought... we were sharing, like a couple, like I wanted us to do before.”

“There’s things you share and things you don’t,” Sawyer said. “‘Cause I’m no shrink, and I ain’t got no clue what it is I’m supposed to say after that.”

“Nothing.” Jack shook his head. He put a hand on Sawyer’s thigh, over the stiff cotton of his boxers. “Like you said, everything went right again. I have all I need. But I wanted to... I needed to tell somebody. Our secret.”

“Yeah, well,” Sawyer muttered, “I like couple share time now about as much as I did three years ago, which ain’t much at all.” He rested against the headboard and petulantly said, “My secret was better than yours.”

“If you lay down I’ll tell you another one,” Jack said, “a better one.”

A few seconds for stubbornness and pride’s sake, then Sawyer slipped back down beside him. He laid on his back and they both stared at a dark ceiling lit only by an orange light from outside.

Jack said nothing on Sawyer’s echoed comment, that they shared secrets because they were a couple again, as if neither of their unofficial breakups counted.

“They’re cousins,” Jack told him.

“Who’s cousins?”

“Aaron and Hank.”

Sawyer paused, earnestly charting a family tree in his mind before asking, “In what way is that?”

“He’s my nephew,” Jack said, and still, years later, he could not wrap his mind around it. “Claire is... was...” He shook his head. “Claire is my sister— half-sister. I tried for so long to figure out just _why_  my father was in Australia. And I guess that’s it. That’s the reason. He was seeing her.”

“Did she know?” Sawyer asked.

“No,” Jack said. “No, I don’t think she did.”

“I’ve looked for her,” he said. “Same as I was lookin’ for all y’all, I was lookin’ for Claire. I guess I was hopin’ maybe she time traveled with the rest of us. But I ain’t... seen or heard nothin’. I’m sorry, Jack.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jack said. “She wandered off. You couldn’t have predicted that. You couldn’t stop her.” Jack took a deep breath. His chest swelled up beneath the white sheet. He said what needed to be said. “You’re a good leader, James. More,” he chuckled, “level-headed than all us alphas put together.”

Sawyer said nothing on the compliment, not his thanks, not an assurance to Jack that his own method was not so bad.

“Thank you,” he murmured after a moment, but it was not for the reason Jack thought. “Thank you for makin’ sure Aaron was all right, for keepin’ your word about lookin’ after him.”

“You said he stayed with us. So I made sure he did.” Jack reached down between them to grab Sawyer’s hand. And Sawyer was of a mindset to let him hold it. He swept his thumb over the hard, dry skin, back and forth, loving the feel because it was Sawyer. “I knew Kate would take good care of him.”

“Yeah, and you too, huh?” Sawyer replied. It was passive aggression at its weakest, tired and watered down. If Sawyer made himself a hypocrite for lingering on the subject, for stoking his own jealousy, Jack would not draw attention to it. Besides, there was something different in Sawyer having a child with someone else and Jack being a father to Aaron. While doing one, Jack was absent in rearing their own child together.

“For a little while,” he said, “a few months.” It seemed longer in memory and farther away in time than it really was. “I... read to him. I played with him. I watched him grow a little every day.” Sawyer did not want to know, but Jack could not stop talking. He needed to say it with no reason why. Maybe he wanted to prove how capable he was. “And I- I listened to Kate try and- and comfort me by saying I was a natural. But she knew... why I needed to do it and why I needed her to tell me I was great. She knew what I was really thinking while I did it all. She knew.” Jack closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I wanted it to be us. I wanted it to be my son instead of my- my nephew. I wanted it to be me, and you, and our baby. With Aaron there too, like you said.”

Sawyer was silent for a long while. Jack thought he had no comment for it.

“What’s done is done, Jack,” he said. “And if there’s anything time hoppin’ over a couple decades taught me it’s that you can’t change the past. You just have to live in whatever present you get stuck in, even if you’re the one that did the stickin’.”

Jack laughed, oddly comforted by the logic within that statement. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Sawyer rolled away and onto his side. Jack took it as an invitation to move close again, to hold him again. He stuck his hand under the man’s arm, along his side, and Sawyer gave him the space to do it. He felt the softer skin of his stomach beneath his shirt. Sawyer put his own hand over Jack’s. He patted it and went still.

“Well, look at that,” he said with a deflating exhale. Jack’s arm went out before being sucked back in with breath. “Five minutes ago Hank’s an only child. Now he’s got a sister and a cousin.” He clicked his tongue as he thought. “Of course they don’t exist for another thirty years, so maybe the point’s still a little moot. Ain’t gonna have no play dates.”

“We have Hank,” Jack said. It was good enough. It was so much more than he had yesterday.

Jack could not change all that had been done. He could not go back and jump from the helicopter. He certainly could not keep Sawyer on it. But they were together in the present, though that meant being stuck in the past. He was not in the relationship he had long ago proposed to Sawyer. He had not even met his son. But come morning after, they would all sit and eat breakfast together. Jack could pretend well enough. He would start the clock on their family at seven.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first half of season five chapter was probably kind of boring. Lots of talking. And a sex scene again. The sex is probably getting boring now. That’s like the fifth one. Sorry about that. I could have cut away, but I wanted to include this one. It is the last of it though. The show kind of snowballs after this with no downtime.
> 
> I wish I could have kept parts of the discussion when Jack first comes to Sawyer’s house a little closer to canon. Mostly because I love watching Sawyer give Jack a good tongue lashing. And then Jack admitting relief at letting Sawyer be in charge. Love that scene. But let’s be honest, they had much bigger things to discuss here. Priorities.


	7. Season Five - Part 2

Jack woke to a timid, gray light peaking through thin curtains. It was barely dawn. He tightened his arm around Sawyer’s waist as he moved in closer behind him. He kissed his neck.

“How you feeling?” Jack asked, knowing the man was already awake, wondering if he ever actually fell asleep.

“Not to inflate your ego,” Sawyer said, voice thick with several hours of disuse, “but like a damn eighteen wheeler took a detour up my ass.” He groaned. “Sore,” he answered more properly.

“We shouldn’t have knotted,” Jack said. “You gonna be okay to work today?”

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m fine, Jack. I’ve had a lot worse than anything you could ever do.” He put his hand over Jack’s where it rested on his stomach. “Plus, I gotta go liberate Sayid.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Jack asked. “How are you gonna help Sayid?”

“You let me take care of that,” Sawyer said. “I seem to recall you liked it when I took control.”

“Okay.” He gave it up, letting Sawyer shoulder the burden.

“That it?” Sawyer asked, skeptical and surprised. He expected a fight.

“That’s it,” Jack said, complying to his ideas and wishes. Sawyer knew the lay of the land a lot better than he could ever guess at. “You’ve got this, James. You’re in charge.”

“Well, all right then.” He closed the fingers of his hand, entwining them with Jack’s.

Despite the high stakes planned for their day, it felt like such a normal start to wake up in bed together, so right.

“It’s tempting to stay here, isn’t it?” Sawyer said. “You think... maybe if I just lay in bed long enough it’ll all take care of itself. You hope maybe you’re not as necessary as the world makes you out to be. You wish you didn’t have so damn many responsibilities.”

“Yeah.” Jack understood Sawyer’s burden explicitly. It was all the fear, doubt, and exhaustion he had faced as leader. But he did not want to distract from Sawyer’s admission by bringing up the comparison they were both aware of. Sawyer knew. That was why he worded it in such a way, applicable to them both. “Plus,” Jack said with a grin, “I prefer the company here.”

“I’ve had better,” Sawyer joked. “What time you think it is?” He picked up Jack’s hand, but he had taken his watch off the night before.

“You don’t keep a clock?” Jack asked, and he peeked at either nightstand, noticing the absence of an alarm clock.

“I’m the boss,” Sawyer muttered. “I get there when I get there.”

He was trying to sound like his old self (passive and uncaring, lazy), but Jack knew better. Hank was on a schedule, and that meant Sawyer was too. He probably worked hard with long hours.

Jack raised up and kissed him on the cheek. Then he pulled away— winning his hand back from Sawyer with a struggle— and leaned off his side of the bed. He rooted around in his clothes until he found his watch. “6:30,” he announced.

Sawyer sighed and rolled over on his back. “I got a shower last night,” he said. “Why don’t you go on?”

Remaining in bed sounded so appealing against every horrible reminder of the world outside and its obligations. Jack groaned like a child looking to avoid school.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Sawyer said. “Go on, git.”

Jack rolled over Sawyer and kissed him. There was a slight awkwardness to it. The kiss carried the unfortunate weight of memory, the knowledge that they had slept together last night and were now trying too hard to act natural, as though it were no big deal.

When they pulled away, it was a mutual agreement, wanting more but saving it for later. They studied each other’s eyes and there was something— not love, but devotion, commitment, fondness.

“It’s good to be back,” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Sawyer replied, “it’s good to have you back.”

Jack looked at him for one second longer, then he pulled away and got out of bed.

He took a very quick shower.

Sawyer was sitting in the living room when he walked out. There was a book in his hand, the constant staple that might have been glued to his palm if the cover were not always changing. He told Jack to get himself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot.

Jack drank it standing up, feeling too nervous to sit. Sawyer noticed his pacing and anxiety but did not comment.

“I feel so empty-handed,” Jack said, and he gripped his cup tighter to compensate that feeling of nothing. “I had him a... Well, I was waiting in the... in the airport, and there was this little... bear in the gift shop. I didn’t know if you would still be alive when I got here, and if you were I didn’t know if we had a girl or a- or a boy. But I thought a bear was a pretty safe gift either way. I got him a bear.”

“Not a polar bear, I hope,” Sawyer joked. Jack had heard the story of how the man shot one down shortly after their arrival.

“No,” Jack said. He grinned and it thinned and then fell. “No, it was just one of those little brown bears. I had it in my carry-on.” Jack sighed. His fingertips rubbed harshly against his mug. His hands felt so empty, so dry, so hard and useless. “I guess I should’ve held onto my stuff like Hurley did.”

“Not your fault,” Sawyer said. “You probably thought your biggest problem was somebody looting the wreckage.”

“I just want... him to like me,” Jack whispered. It was not alpha pride or evolutionary necessity. Jack lost his father— after never having anything close to a healthy relationship with him. He needed to prove he could do better, prove that it was not him that was too broken and defective for relationships.

“A toy bear wasn’t gonna buy that,” Sawyer said.

“Couldn’t have hurt.”

They sipped their coffee— Jack standing, Sawyer sitting. Occasionally, the man would glance at the clock.

“I wake him up at seven,” Sawyer said as the hour neared. “I get him dressed. Then it’s breakfast.” He paused to think about the wisest course of action. “Probably best you let me do all that first. Then I’ll bring him out to eat.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, letting Sawyer call the shots. “I’ll wait in the living room. Or the... dining room. Which would be better?”

“He won’t care,” Sawyer chuckled, amused by Jack’s tension. He smacked his book against his thigh then put it on the table. He stood up. “I’m gonna go on,” he said. “Now, I know it’s never been easy for you, Doc, but why don’t you just try to calm yourself down?”

“Yeah.” Jack took a deep breath in. He held it for a second before exhaling. “I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” Sawyer said with a smirk. He took a step back and his last look at Jack was more kind. His smile turned softer and sympathetic to Jack’s situation.

He walked down the hall and very softly opened Hank’s door.

Jack swallowed the rest of his coffee and set his mug on the table. His hands were shaking, just waiting for the moment he would mess things up. There was too much doubt in him. There was not enough courage. Locke once said he was good at lying to himself. But the role of fatherhood was too intimidating for him to face with surety, to say he would be good at it.

Jack wrestled with his nerves for several minutes until Sawyer came back. Those loud boots of his almost drowned out the little patter that followed. He walked into the dining room where Jack stood, then he stepped to the side, showing off Hank.

He was— as Jack was honest, if vain, enough to say— a very cute child. There was that long, light blond hair from the night before, but it was more ordered now, brushed down for the day. He wore a bright colored shirt and blue jean shorts underneath. His small tennis shoes were new and white, and they squeaked on the floor when he walked. He had big eyes that were the blue Sawyer described, but from their distance Jack did not see the mentioned green. Hank looked up at Jack with those eyes, wearing a passive curiosity on his face, waiting for the introduction of someone new.

“Hank,” Sawyer said, nodding in his direction, “this is Jack.”

“Hey,” Jack said. He waved and it felt out of place. His smile was too wide.

Hank turned his head, watching his own shoulder as he tried to walk past Jack and into the dining room.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sawyer scolded, grabbing Hank and holding him there. “Where your manners at, boy?”

“He’s shy,” Jack tried to defend on Hank’s behalf. “It’s all right.”

Sawyer snorted. “He ain’t shy.” Then to Hank he said, “Go on now. You show Jack how we behave in this house.”

Hank stepped forward, taking the most defiantly small steps imaginable. He extended his hand like a little gentleman. “Hank,” he said.

Jack squatted down on Hank’s level and took his offered hand, shaking it. “Hi, Hank. It is,” he chuckled, a genuine laugh that was pure of intent and full of mirth, “very nice to meet you. I have been waiting,” he laughed again, “a very long time for it. I’ve- I’ve heard a lot about you. Your dad, he... he told me a lot.” Hank gave him an odd look, somewhat confused but mostly waiting until he was free to leave. Jack let go of the small hand he was still holding. “Uh,” he dropped his gaze, slowly losing his nerve, “I’m, uh, I’m Jack, and I’m... I’m your... I’m your, uh...” He paused. It was only a second’s hesitation, but that was all it took before Sawyer closed his window.

“He’s Daddy’s friend.” Jack looked at him, cheated and hurt that he would do that, but Sawyer shook his head, indicating they would discuss it later. “Jack’s gonna have breakfast with us,” he told Hank. “That sound good?”

The boy nodded, knowing he had no real choice in the matter. “That Daddy’s shirt,” he said bluntly.

Jack looked down at the dark blue shirt he was wearing. He had come straight to Sawyer’s last night and not thought to find a change of clothes in between. “Yeah, uh, I...”

“Gotta share, Hank,” Sawyer butted in. “Jack didn’t have a shirt.”

“Okay.” How easily children accepted explanations given to them. “What you do?” he questioned.

“I’m sorry?” Jack said, uncertain of what he was asking.

“Your job assignment,” Sawyer translated. “He wants to know what it is you do here at Dharma.”

Jack did not answer. Ever since he was pre-med, he had thought of the day he would explain to his children what he did, telling them how hard he worked and how many people he helped. He wanted them to be proud of him, proud that he was accomplished and well known in a very difficult field. He could not tell his son he was a janitor.

“He’s a workman,” Sawyer said, answering for him again.

“Actually,” Jack said, defiant as could be, “I’m a doctor, a good one, a surgeon.”

“He’s a workman,” Sawyer said again, slowly, emphatically, staring into Jack while he did. “See Hank here, he’s real thorough about what everybody does. ‘Cause he’s my deputy. Ain’t that right, Hank?”

He nodded.

“Why don’t you go get your badge and show Jack? Go on. It’s in your room.”

Hank ran to his bedroom, excited to show off the tangible proof of his job assignment, however fabricated the title was.

Jack waited until he was certain Hank was out of earshot. “I have waited half my life to tell my children what it is I do, and you take that away with your job assignments, with your constant attempts to humiliate me.”

“I gave you what job was open,” Sawyer justified, “what it was we needed. You want to work in the mess hall or the motor pool instead? ‘Cause that’s all I could squeeze y’all into on such short notice.” He stuck a hand up like he was going under oath. “Right hand to God, I’d rather be under your knife any day, Doc, but we already got us a doctor. Now if it’s gonna ruffle your pretty little feathers so bad, I’ll figure somethin’ else out. You just have to give me some time.”

“I want to tell Hank,” Jack insisted. “I want him to know.”

“Confiding in a two-year-old’s about as smart as asking Hugo to keep a secret. And since I already got one of those things to worry about, I’d rather not add to. Trust me, you tell Hank you’re a damn spinal surgeon, and all of Dharma’ll know before the day’s out.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, all right? We’ll set the record straight with him eventually, but for now I can’t have people wonderin’ why you took such a big demotion.”

“Yeah?” Jack questioned loudly, angrily. “And when do you tell him I’m his father?”

Sawyer shushed him and stepped closer to inspire a softer tone. “It ain’t a secret forever,” he promised. “But you’re the one that wasn’t steppin’ up and saying anything. I thought you changed your mind, so I was givin’ you an out. Now, if you make a decision, you let me know. But like I said, the boy’s two. Just be patient with me, all right? This isn’t a no. It’s just for a little while.”

Jack felt as if a parallel was being tied together by thin strings of paraphrased dialogue. He could not help but remember that day on the beach before Sawyer’s third heat, when he had begged the man to take the suppressants. Sawyer had agreed. Sawyer had lied.

Jack agreed. “Yeah,” he said, “all right.”

And what could either man be accused of other than wanting his son?

“Thank you, Jack.” His shoulders dropped with relief. Their quick sidebar over, he called, “Hank, you left it out in the den again, buddy.” He knew the whole time that he had sent the boy on a wild goose chase.

Hank came running back through and into the living room. He grabbed his badge, a silver-plated toy that read “Deputy.”

“This my badge,” he said, holding it out proudly for Jack to see.

“That’s really impressive, Hank,” Jack said. The big word confused the boy, so he amended, saying, “It’s really cool.” He inspected the small star with all the scrutiny and wonder he thought Hank anticipated. Then Jack leaned down and pinned it to his shirt where it belonged.

“Yeah, I only let Hank help out on the _real_  special cases,” Sawyer said with a wink.

“Miles, he... Miles use a key, and he play- he play on the pinball, and he didn’t pay,” Hank tattled.

“Well, that was very wrong of Miles to do,” Jack said with a grin, trying so hard to take the matter as seriously as Hank.

“Our hardest case yet,” Sawyer said. “It took us a whole hour to get that confession.”

“Miles lies,” Hank stated, candid and tactless.

Jack could have laughed— a humorless laugh— over how Hank had no idea his father was the king of lies.

“Well,” Sawyer clapped his hands together, “what say we get amongst it? Hank, you want cereal or oatmeal?”

“Oatmeal,” he answered.

“Jack?”

“Yeah,” Jack said with a nod. “Oatmeal sounds great. You need any help?”

“Nope,” he said. “There ain’t many things I can make (thus our very limited menu), but I can heat oatmeal just fine. Sit on down.”

Hank walked over to a chair at the table with a booster seat in it. He tried climbing up, and Jack felt compelled to help him before he slipped and dragged the seat down on him.

“I got you,” he said. He picked Hank up under the arms and lifted him like he weighed nothing. Jack sat him down in his seat and pushed the chair closer to the table. “There you go, buddy.”

“What do you say, Hank?” Sawyer prompted as he sat a lidded cup of milk on the table.

“Thank you, Jack,” Hank said.

Jack smiled. “You... You’re welcome.”

Sawyer stepped back into the kitchen. Jack stayed where he was for a minute, standing at Hank’s side with absolutely no idea what to say.

He fled to the kitchen under the pretense of needing more coffee.

Jack filled his cup and leaned against the counter by Sawyer. He sipped slowly at his drink, using it as an excuse to stay right where he was.

“Doc, you got no idea how bad I miss microwaves,” Sawyer said as he stirred the pot of thickening oatmeal. “No idea.”

“Still beats a sandy beach over an open flame,” Jack said with a grin.

“Well, you got me there,” Sawyer chuckled. “Normally, we’d go over to Juliet’s or the canteen, but I figure this is family day and we’d best spend it alone.” He scraped the bottom and sides of the pot before setting down his spoon. “Go on.” He nodded his head towards the dining room. “Go talk to him. Unless, of course, you’re afraid of some snot nosed kid half your size.”

“I am afraid,” Jack admitted. He hid behind his coffee cup, pretending to drink. Instead he let the hot liquid break against his lips until he could stall no more. “What the hell am I supposed to say to him?”

“He’s two,” Sawyer said, reminding Jack of that fact once more. “It don’t matter what you say. And the little bastard’s honest enough to let you know if you’re boring him. Trust me.” He rolled his eyes and huffed, and Jack did not doubt the boy’s capacity for brutal honesty. “Talk to him or leave, Jack. ‘Cause I got too many things to worry about to be spendin’ time on this ‘one foot in’ business.”

“Okay.” Jack swallowed. He was not afraid of meeting Hank, of being a father. He was afraid of failing. And all his practice with Aaron, all Kate’s assurances that he was great at it, could not mitigate that fear.

He walked back into the dining room. Hank’s little legs were swinging under the table while he waited for his breakfast.

“Hey, Hank.” Jack pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. “So... you like living here?”

Hank nodded his head. Sawyer said he was not shy, but there was an undeniable hesitance as they interacted. Or maybe it was Jack’s fault. He was coming on too strong.

“Uh,” Jack stalled on the syllable and its proceeding silence. He thought about Aaron, about the universal interests of all small boys. “What is your favorite color?”

“Blue,” he answered, using his words to do it.

“I like green,” Jack said with a smile, starting a little back and forth.

“Green pretty,” Hank said. “I like blue, and green, and red, and yellow, and ‘pupple’, and brown, and orange, and black.”

Jack chuckled, feeling like the boy was listing every color he knew from a crayon box. “You like to draw?” he asked. All children did.

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Got cray-nons.” He turned around in his seat and pointed at the hutch behind them. “They in there.”

Jack got the crayons out while they waited. He put the box on the table, along with a pad of paper. Hank tore a page out and gave it to him. Not a word was said about it, but Jack assumed it was normal, that Sawyer drew when he did. Hank moved the small box of crayons between them.

“I’m gonna use yellow,” Jack said.

“I use black.” It was an odd color choice, so dark for children, but Jack did not address it.

They scribbled on their papers as Jack tried to think of anything to say. If Hank were older, they would have more topics to discuss. If he were younger, they would not need any. Jack could simply hold him and marvel at him. But he was two, and two was a difficult age to converse with.

Hank put his crayon down to take a big drink of his milk. Jack snuck a peak at his drawing. It was a squiggled line, circling around again and again, up and over, taking up most of the page. There was order to it, however, as if each drawn line methodically contributed to the overall design. Jack looked at the black crayon and noticed it was shorter than the others. Its label had been peeled back for continued access. It had been used.

“Hank?” Jack asked. The boy put down his cup. “What is it you’re drawing there?” He shrugged and did not answer. “What made you think to draw that?” He ignored Jack. “Have you seen this somewhere?”

Hank shook his head. “Monster,” was all he would say.

Jack took a deep breath. He watched Hank push the paper aside, done with it.

“You wanna see what I drew?” Jack asked. Hank nodded and Jack showed it to him. It was a poorly drawn picture of three people. Jack never said he was an artist. “This is me,” he pointed to one of the figures, “and your daddy, and that’s you in the middle.” It was his backdoor approach to telling Hank. Jack thought things might go smoother— for both of them— if he eased the boy into the idea of them is family. “Do you like it?” Hank nodded. Jack smiled. “Why don’t you finish it for me? Draw some grass for us to stand on.” Hank grabbed the green crayon. “I’m gonna go show your daddy what you drew, okay?” He nodded.

Jack took the black drawing to Sawyer.

“Have you seen this?” he asked, holding it up.

Sawyer looked at it and sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “Not the first one.”

“Has he seen this thing? Does it come here?”

“If he’s seen it, I don’t know when,” Sawyer told him. “It can’t get past our fence. I’ve just stopped questioning the whole thing. The boy don’t know why he draws it. He just does.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Jack demanded.

“No,” he said, “but I ain’t gonna make him stop. It’s not his fault, and it’s not hurting anything. Now,” he flicked the knob on the stove and turned it off, “you wanna run those bowls over to the table?” He nodded at a small stack of them on the counter.

Jack did as asked. He gave a bowl and spoon to Hank. He placed the other two at either end of the table. It felt pleasant, familial.

“I finish,” Hank said, looking a little upset that Jack had not followed up with the task he assigned.

“Yeah? Let me see.” Jack looked at the drawing. There was the grass he asked for as well as a blue sky that covered the rest of the page and even bled over onto the doodle of the three of them. Jack beamed. “It’s beautiful.”

“What’ve ya got there?” Sawyer asked as he came through with a hot saucepan. Jack showed him. “Ah.” He looked down and gave Hank a spoon of oatmeal with a warning to let it cool. “Yeah, that’s a real nice drawing. You’ll have to hang that up in your room.”

“Not the fridge?” Jack joked.

“Fridge is public domain,” Sawyer said. “Anybody walkin’ through can see.” He checked to see if Hank was watching, then he kissed Jack on the cheek, right behind their son’s head. “Just give it a little bit, Jack.”

They sat down to eat.

It was silent for a full minute. What was there to say between them?

“Got a plan for Sayid yet?” Jack asked, deciding to talk business.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “I’ll go in and speak to him first, fill him in on everything.”

“I can’t imagine how confused he must be,” Jack said. He shook his head and sighed. “I barely get it and I’ve had you guys explain it to me.”

“Well, maybe next time he’ll stay with the group,” Sawyer said.

“And Sun?”

“Last I heard from Jin there still wasn’t any sign of her, no airplane neither.” Sawyer tapped his spoon against his bowl as he thought. “Looks like it’s just y’all four.”

“I can understand some of what Jin must be going through,” Jack said. Sawyer was not the love that Sun was to Jin, but for three years Jack had been separated from him and from their child.

“Nip it,” Sawyer said, warning Jack off before he got too close to blabbing. He would not budge in his insistence that Jack pick a side. Sitting on the fence was not allowed.

“Uh, so Hank,” Jack addressed, watching the boy sit there quietly and patiently, “you, uh... Do you and your dad ever toss a ball around?”

“He’s two,” Sawyer answered for him. “Boy’s got a throwin’ range of about five feet. And that’s if he doesn’t drop it behind him when he’s windin’ up.”

It was true, of course, but Jack needed something, an in, some activity they could do together other than coloring. Because it was becoming increasingly apparent he had nothing to talk about with his son.

“I’m sure he’d be great,” Jack insisted. “When I get off work I’ll see if I can’t find us a ball. How’s that sound, buddy?”

Hank said nothing. He pretended he had not heard, but children were poor actors. And there was little chance his oatmeal was really that interesting.

“Or... whatever you like to do,” Jack tried. “We can color some more, play with your blocks.” Hank was stubbornly quiet. “I know there’s a, uh, swingset out in the courtyard.”

Hank would not reply, and Sawyer would not make him. He understood better than Jack how counterproductive it could be trying to force a bond. Jack would not look at the man, not even for reassurance. He felt embarrassed for his failure.

They ate.

It was quiet until Hank put his hands on the table and tried to push himself back.

“Where you goin’, boy?” Sawyer questioned. “You still got half a bowl left.”

“I ain’t hungry,” Hank said, and he pushed his bowl to the very edge of his grasp, nearly laying on the table to do so.

Jack almost laughed out loud to hear that incorrect grammar and the subtle southern twang that came along with it. Then he realized that, realistically, nothing else made sense. Sawyer taught Hank to speak, therefore Hank spoke like Sawyer. Jack had no idea why he expected anything else, or why it took that one horrible word to make him realize. Everything up until that point had been mistaken for childish babbling. It was endearing and adorable, and Jack enjoyed seeing so much of Sawyer in their son.

“I think you mean ‘am not’,” he tried to correct anyway. He was a father, after all, and he knew a little proper grammar now would go a long way in Hank’s life later.

“Am not huh?” he asked.

“No, it’s just that...” He looked to Sawyer for help, but the man was shaking his head. “It’s just that ‘ain’t’ really isn’t a word.”

“Daddy say ‘ain’t’,” Hank defended reasonably.

“Just let the boy say ‘ain’t’,” Sawyer groaned. “It’s an innocent little word that ain’t never hurt nobody.”

“Ain’t never hurt nobody,” Hank repeated. And Jack could see the battle lost before his very eyes. He had a redneck son born on a mysterious tropical island. Some things could not be changed.

“Right,” he conceded. “That’s my mistake.”

Sawyer got up and pulled Hank’s chair out so he could jump down. “Go on,” he said. “You got you a few minutes of play before we leave.” Hank ran off to his room. Sawyer sighed and sat Hank’s bowl inside his own empty one. “Boy don’t eat enough to keep a cat alive.” He left their dishes in the middle of the table and sat down in a chair closer to Jack.

“I’m guessing he’s not usually as quiet as one.”

“No,” Sawyer agreed. He tapped a finger on the table. It sounded like the consistent ‘drip drip’ of a loose faucet. “You’re puttin’ him on edge, Jack, tryin’ too hard. The kid ain’t stupid. You can’t just be a stranger one day and his best friend the next.”

“Last night you made it sound like I could,” Jack reminded. “You said that this is it, this is when I get to prove I can be a father, that nothing before now mattered.”

“Well damn,” Sawyer exclaimed, “I didn’t think you’d go and smother him. Just take it down a notch. Go by his pace,” he advised. “I’m sorry if that’s slower than I was thinkin’ last night, but Hank will warm up to you.”

“And then we can,” Jack shrugged, “be friends?” He was berating the man’s plans once more. “He’s my son, Sawyer. It shouldn’t have to be a secret.”

“You’re the one pumpin’ the brakes ‘cause you’re too damn scared,” Sawyer said. “But if you wanna do this, Jack, if you agree to sit your ass down and acknowledge that Hank’s life— my life— is here, I’ll make us up a story. I’ll even use some half-truths to do it.”

Jack laughed at the very idea that Sawyer could pull it off. How farfetched it sounded. “What can you possibly tell these people that even remotely sounds like the truth?” he asked.

“I tell ‘em you’re Hank’s daddy,” Sawyer answered. “You were on our ship. But instead of washin’ up on shore like all of us, you had the good luck to get hauled in by another boat.” Wheels turned in his head— fast, efficient machinery. “Faraday,” he continued, thinking in real time as he built the story, “he’s back on the mainland, home base. I’ll say he ran across you. And since then, me and you been settin’ it up for you to come join us.”

“Why hide it?” Jack asked, questioning it as though he took joy in poking holes or security from revealing faults. “Why wouldn’t these versions of ourselves let everyone know we found each other again?”

“I wanted you to myself a little while.” He said it so seriously, so factually. Jack wondered if some aspect of it rang true with Sawyer’s real self. After all, it had been a unanimous desire to hide away in bed for as long as possible.

“And my job?”

“Doctor— surgeon.”

“We’d have to...” Jack hesitated, knowing Sawyer had not fully considered the fact that, “We’d have to be married, you know. You told everyone Hank’s father was your husband. We’d have to... pretend that were true.”

“I didn’t say it was a perfect plan.” Sawyer would not look at him, and that was all the proof needed to know that he had, in fact, already realized it. “But I have acted harder,” Sawyer said, “and I’ve bluffed bigger.”

“This isn’t a con,” Jack argued. “It’s a commitment. For all intents and purposes, we _would_ be married, for ten years apparently.”

“Would that be so bad?” Sawyer asked. “We’ve done met several of the requirements. We got a damn kid. How much harder could the rest of it be?”

He was speaking in fantasies again. “You read too many books,” Jack said. It was not an accusation or a disdainful remark. Jack was envious, if anything. He wished he could ignore reality so easily. “We don’t love each other, James... That’s what marriage is.”

“Like I said,” Sawyer muttered, quiet and morose, “not a perfect plan.”

Jack felt cruel, like a bully. They wanted the same thing, though there were so many obstacles in the way. He wanted Sawyer to have his ideal, and he wanted it for himself as well. Unfortunately, the paths that led there were very different for them both.

“Can I think on it?” he asked, needing that leniency. He had been told his destiny was on the island, but his family was there too. And he would not abandon the present one before him when the other had not even revealed itself.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. He patted his hand on the table. “Yeah, Jack, you... you think on that.” He pulled Jack’s empty bowl to the middle of the table with the others, getting ready to stand and wash them. “This sorta talk’s too serious for morning time,” he said.

“We needed to say it,” Jack replied. He was never one to back out of a conversation. He was only surprised Sawyer had committed to it for so long. He truly was desperate for Jack to stay.

“Maybe so.”

Jack looked at his watch. “What do you do with him?” he asked, curious. “Hank, when you go to work, where does he stay?”

“Juliet looks after him a lot,” Sawyer told him. He was thankful for the change of topic, embracing one where he got to speak on facts and not emotions. “She wasn’t much good with kids either, but we sorta learned together. Motor pool ain’t a full-time gig, so she’s able to take him off my hands most days.” Sawyer took a deep breath in as he thought. “Today though she’ll be trainin’ Kate, so I gotta find me a sitter.” He smiled and it was warm, affectionate, grateful. “Most everybody’s real friendly here. No one ever minds me droppin’ Hank off for a day. Got my pick of spouses with kids. I can use just about anyone I want except Mrs. Chang. Miles set that rule.”

“I wish I didn’t have to work,” Jack said, feeling it unfair. “I could look after him, get to know him.” He chuckled. “Maybe tone it down a bit.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Sawyer agreed. “But he’s not goin’ anywhere, Jack. He’ll be here this evening when you get off work.”

Sawyer spoke presumptuously, and Jack doubted if he even noticed. He welcomed Jack back into his home come twilight hours, as if it were a given, as if he wanted him to be there.

“When are you supposed to report for duty anyway?” Sawyer asked. He turned his head to look at a clock on the wall and so did Jack.

“In less than ten minutes,” Jack said, watching the second hand race around its circle track.

“Well damn.” Sawyer stood up. He stepped away from his chair and pushed it neatly back under the table. “You need to go. Don’t wanna be late your first day and risk getting fired. ‘Cause this ain’t timeshares and vacations, Doc. The only way people get to stay on the island is through work or marriage.”

Jack did not want to leave, but he saw the many benefits in obeying Sawyer. He stood as well, surrendering to the man’s orders. Sawyer would take care of them all, as promised. And it felt good to give up control to him again. It was a relief.

Jack went to Sawyer’s bedroom to put on his Dharma jumpsuit, and when he came back through the hall, slipping his arms into the sleeves, he saw a man in the entryway.

Sawyer noticed Jack. He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes embarrassedly. Jack snapped his buttons closed, but the act did more harm than good. Both of them knew how it looked: a late night and lust. And if the stranger did so guess, they could hardly be insulted, for he would only be correct.

“Horace,” Sawyer said, “this is, uh, Jack. He’s one of our new recruits. Jack, this is Horace, our benevolent leader.” They shook hands as a courtesy of introduction, and Jack watched the man, Horace, try to size him up but draw a blank. “Jack here had some questions about what all we do,” Sawyer said. “Innocent questions,” he added.

“Well, it’s... good that you’re taking an interest,” Horace said. “We’re working on a lot of very impressive things here on the island. But innovation, as you might know, is usually preceded by secrecy, so don’t be surprised if there’s a lot of projects your position isn’t open to.” He did not sound judgmental of Jack’s lowly status, nor was he arrogant in his own placement of leader. He was a good man, Jack decided. “Speaking of,” Horace went on, leaning closer to Sawyer as though they conspired, “about that matter from yesterday. We have a problem.”

“I was already on my way,” Sawyer said. “And Jack was just leaving for his shift.” He nodded his head at the door, pushing Jack through it with an insistent glance. Jack obeyed. “Just let me drop the kid off somewhere first. Hank,” he whistled, “time to go.”

Jack left, off to a job whose mindlessness he welcomed. He could not imagine trying to concentrate on anything important at the moment.

And sitting at the end of his day— far away, it seemed— was Sawyer’s implication that he was welcome back when work was over.

+

Unfortunately, the night was a busy one that began with a meeting only Sawyer was invited to. It had something to do with Sayid’s fate, and that was all Jack knew. After that, matters quickly turned dire and snowballed into several incidents. A flaming van collided into a house and set it aflame. Sayid escaped. Young Ben Linus was shot. There was no time for a sleepover or family fun.

Sawyer handled the situations as best he could. With an escaped ‘Hostile’— charged with attempted murder— on the loose, the Dharma people looked to him. He did everything in his power to calm them, to lie that he was doing whatever he could, all while fretting over what step to take next, which group of people to betray.

Jack felt sorry for him. He wished he could help somehow, but he knew that any attempt to do so would only make more trouble. So he did what was asked of him. He went where told.

Miles was fiercely loyal to Sawyer. Where three years and a secret had scattered Jack’s group of survivors to the wind, it only brought Sawyer’s people closer together. Therefore, Miles complied to orders and secured Jack, Hurley, and Kate in his house without a second thought. He would do whatever Sawyer said.

Jack did not mind too much. Because with a rush all around Sawyer and no time to come up with a better prospect, Hank was right there with them.

Jack watched his son play. He watched Hank roll a toy car along the floor and then up the couch and over the wall, any surface he could drive on. Jack watched but did not interact. He was trying to heed Sawyer’s advice and give the boy a little space.

Instead, Jack paid attention to Miles’s explanation of time travel, how they could not change anything. It seemed a waste. What was the point of going back to the 70s if they could not alter events? Sawyer acted like they were meant to be there. Jack was waiting for proof.

He had only just sat down in a chair when Sawyer busted through the door.

“Doc, I need you to come with me,” he said.

Hank jumped up from the floor, abandoning his car. “Daddy!” he exclaimed. His smile informed that his young mind had no concept of time. He thought it was the end of the work day. He thought they got to go home.

“Not right now, munchkin.” Sawyer ruffled Hank’s hair and walked past him and towards Jack.

“Come with you where?” Jack asked, making no effort to move just yet.

“Time to shine, Jack,” he said. “You wanted your promotion, here it is.” Sawyer nodded his head at the door, as if the gesture could drag Jack through it. “Juliet said the kid’s losing blood, and we ain’t got none to put back in him. So we need you to show us where he sprung a leak.”

Jack considered it. He truly did. He contemplated time travel and the rationalization that they could not change anything. He thought about the fondness he had never held for Ben Linus.

Everyone watched him. Everyone waited for him.

“No,” Jack said.

“What?” Sawyer questioned. He was confused by the answer and determined to believe that the easiest explanation was he heard wrong.

“No,” Jack said again, making sure the man understood, “I’m not coming with you.”

Sawyer stepped closer. He looked behind at Hank. He came closer still. “He’s a kid,” Sawyer said, “a little boy.” Then— quietly and like a secret— he muttered, “Last I checked, you had one of those.”

Jack stood as well, and he stepped right beside Sawyer, trying to keep their business private. “And if it was Hank, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion,” he spoke, nearly a whisper. “But it’s not. It’s Ben Linus. So no...” Jack sat down again. “I won’t help.”

“If you don’t come with me, Jack, that kid’s gonna die.”

Jack thought once more. He considered going, for Sawyer if for nothing or no one else. “Then he dies,” Jack decided.

Sawyer was hurt by his decision. Kate was displeased, upset, judgmental. Jack did not look at either of them, knowing he was wrong.

Sawyer left without another word, not even to Hank. And when he stepped out the door, he slammed it behind him.

He left and Jack felt as though he failed a test. Not for Sawyer, though maybe he flunked one of his as well. No, Jack failed to prove something to himself, though he was not certain what it was.

+

Jack tried to stay out of Sawyer’s way the rest of the day. He went to his job. He wiped down the chalkboard and cleaned the classroom that might one day be attended by his son— if he would just allow them to stay in the past, as Sawyer wanted.

He cleaned the classroom as a distraction. He tried not to think about his squandered opportunity, that if he just saved Ben’s life, he and Sawyer could be in the middle of explaining a lie. They could be telling Horace how Jack really was a surgeon. They could be confessing their relationship. They could be a family.

He cleaned the classroom as amends. It was on Roger Linus’s itinerary. Jack thought that giving the man a day off might be some form of insufficient apology for not helping his son, for not helping Ben. Jack was a father too.

Roger was not thankful. And when he came in to take his job back, it was not his temper that frightened Jack; it was his questions about Kate. Any inquiries that threatened their presence threatened Sawyer’s plans. And while Jack had not yet decided to stay, he would not let someone ruin the life Sawyer had made.

It gave Jack an excuse to go back to his house that night.

Sawyer was not there when Jack knocked. Once again, Juliet opened the door.

“Jack,” she greeted with a smile, always kind. “James isn’t here.” Hank was. Jack could hear him playing. Juliet stood in the doorway, not certain if she should let him inside without Sawyer’s permission. Jack took advantage of knowing she would not deny him if asked outright.

“I can wait,” he insisted, and she stepped aside to let him in.

Hank was sitting in the floor. He had carried his wooden blocks to the living room and was now stacking them in an uneven tower.

Jack dragged his feet— feigning patience— and then he sat down beside him.

“Hey, Hank.”

“Hey.” He did not look up. Hank had a strong sense of concentration. Jack wondered if he got that from him.

“You building a tower?” He nodded. “Can I help?” He did not answer, but it was not a ‘no’ either. Jack tried to straighten some of the blocks out to keep them from toppling. “You know,” he said, “if you start with more at the bottom, you’ll have stronger support.” He began layering blocks around the tower to prop it up. Hank knocked them all down, even the ones he had been working on himself.

“Hank!” Juliet exclaimed, ready to scold him.

“It’s all right,” Jack said, trying to convince himself it were true. “What’s the point of a tower if you can’t knock it down, right Hank?” He nodded. “So we’ll just build another one.”

Jack started laying blocks out for a base. Hank placed some on top, helping him. It was something, Jack thought, some manner of interaction, even if Hank never let them finish making anything before destroying it. He was not being obstinate though. That seemed to be how he played. Little boys— especially his little boy raised by Sawyer— were rough.

Juliet watched them play over the top of a book, but Jack knew she was not really reading. She turned the pages too slowly, or not slow enough. Her eyes focused too hard on the book and stared right through it. She was worried about Sawyer and Hank. Jack did not blame her for that concern. His presence upset a very delicate balance, a perfectly level scale with dire consequences just below on either side.

“Hank, it’s time for bed,” Juliet said after twenty or so block towers. “Say goodnight to Jack.”

“I can take him,” Jack volunteered. “I can put him to bed.”

“Juliet do it,” Hank requested.

Jack did not press it. He wanted to put Hank to bed more than anything. He wanted to read to him until he fell asleep. He wanted to sing. He wanted to relive every situation that had never been enough with Aaron.

“Yeah,” he said, giving Hank the space he wanted. “Yeah, I’ll just wait here for Sawyer.”

“Who that?” Hank asked.

“It’s no one,” Juliet said. “Now, let’s get you in bed before your father gets home and finds out how late you were up.”

“Goodnight, Jack,” Hank said, two words of courtesy that made Jack’s chest tight.

“Goodnight, Hank,” he replied with a smile. “Sweet dreams.”

Juliet wore sympathy on his account. She took Hank’s hand and walked him down the hall.

Jack sat on the couch and waited for Sawyer. Two nights ago he had sat in the same spot and been filled with such hope. Hank would love him. Sawyer would let them pick up where they left off, and there would be no stipulations of marriage too soon or living in the past.

Jack waited in a house that felt less like home than two nights ago.

When Sawyer finally came in, Jack did not linger. His presence put the man on edge. It made him anxious that something would change, for good or for bad. Jack said what he needed to about Roger’s suspicions of Kate in the disappearance of young Ben.

“Doc,” Sawyer called, and he closed the door back before Jack could fully open it. “I know we got some problems goin’ on down here, but I’ll get ‘em all straightened out.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jack assured him. “You’re doing all you can.”

“I just wish I had a little more help,” he said, and Jack knew it was in reference of his own refusal to help Ben that morning. “But I’ll fix it,” he said again. “I just don’t want this interfering with you decidin’ on whether or not you wanna stay. It ain’t always like this.”

“I know, James.”

Jack kissed him, sweet, encouraging, supportive. Sawyer returned it, anchoring him there, not wanting him to leave. He kissed along Jack’s lips and cheek until he ran out of road. He rested his heavy head on Jack’s shoulder. He was tired, too tired to hold it up himself.

“What I wouldn’t give for another round of that stress relief we had the other night,” he said.

“Get some sleep,” Jack told him. “Doctor’s orders.” He patted Sawyer’s back. His hand felt heavy, like the tenderness in their touches was losing its natural ease. “It’ll help.”

Sawyer pulled away with a groan. If he truly wanted Jack to stay, he refused to ask for it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jack said. He kissed him one final time.

“Tomorrow,” Sawyer said. He saw Jack out the door.

+

Jack woke to an insistent knock upon his door early in the morning. It was contributive to the unrest of the island. There was always some calamity.

Faraday was one of the last people he expected to see, and his assertion that they were not supposed to be there only confirmed what Jack already knew. But what he said about Jack’s promised destiny being a lie was not something that wanted to be heard.

He followed Faraday out the door, but the man took off with Miles before any more questions could be asked or answered.

Daniel’s presence and proclamations gave Jack his newest excuse to go see their new acting leader.

“Morning,” Jack greeted when Sawyer answered his door.

He looked frazzled, rushed, and anxious— somehow even worse than the night before. “When I said I’d see you ‘tomorrow’, I didn’t mean first thing, Doc.”

“Can I come in?”

“Maybe not the best time,” Sawyer said. “I got a little too much goin’ on to play house right now.”

“You’re upset,” Jack assumed, seeing that a night of sleep had given Sawyer time to decide on how he felt. “You’re angry I didn’t save Ben yesterday.”

“Well, it’s led to some of the problems I got flyin’ right now, so yes, honestly I’m a little upset.” Jack could make Juliet out over the man’s shoulder, fitting into the house so naturally. Maybe she belonged there better than he did. Sawyer leaned harder against the door, blocking off the house’s interior. “But that’s not what this is about, so I need you to respect that I want you to go. And then I need you to do it.”

“Faraday’s back,” Jack told him, letting Sawyer know that it was not a social visit.

Sawyer paused for just a second, trying to comprehend what Jack said and where it could fit in with everything else going on. “What do you mean ‘Faraday’s back’? Why?”

“I have no idea,” Jack said, still unsure himself. “He came in on the sub, he woke me up. He started talking nonsense. And then he took off for the Orchid.”

Sawyer thought about it. He prioritized the development as low. “I’d love to trade theories about this, but I’m a little busy right now.”

Jack stuck a hand out, hitting the door before Sawyer could close it. “What are you busy with at six o’ clock in the morning?”

“James,” Juliet interrupted, finally stepping into the conversation, “tell him.”

Sawyer sighed and resignedly invited Jack inside. He closed the door behind them and only then did Jack notice the gun in his hand.

“Phil,” he explained, “one of my security guys, got himself a videotape of me and Kate taking the kid out to the Hostiles.”

Jack tried to process the information and all consequences that came with it. “And where’s the tape?” he asked, thinking on how it implicated and affected his people, his family.

“With Phil,” Sawyer answered.

“And where is Phil?”

Sawyer showed him the security guard locked up in his closet, and Jack knew that Sawyer’s life in Dharma was ruined.

“Phil, Jack,” he introduced. “Jack... Phil.” His shoulders hung low. He was so tired. In describing what he was in that moment, no other word was needed; Sawyer was sad.

“James,” Jack sighed, the beginning of some sympathy.

“Rally the troops,” Sawyer ordered, interrupting whatever Jack might have said. “It’s time we discuss our options.”

“Hank?” Jack asked.

Sawyer nodded at the boy’s door right beside them. “Still sleepin’,” he said. “I’d like to keep it that way long as possible.”

When Jack came back with everyone, Hank was awake and sitting at the table. He ate his breakfast slowly, and Jack knew that even if Sawyer had not yet discussed what was wrong, Hank could tell there was something. Unrest circled around like a gloomy smoke, indicating fire and danger.

They sat. Sawyer pulled a chair out in the middle and addressed the group.

“All right, people. Party’s over,” he told them. “I know y’all just showed up. The rest of us have been here for the past three years. This is our home.” He looked over his shoulder at Hank, their well behaved son who sat quietly out of the way. Sawyer turned back to face the den. “Last thing I wanna do is leave. But we ain’t got no choice.”

Sawyer gave them two options: commandeer the submarine or flee into the jungle, become survivors scraping by once more. Either way, they would still be stuck in 1977. Sawyer had no remedy for that.

Jack sat there, thinking about their very limited prospects. Whether they chose cities and civilizations of the past or the unforgiving wilderness of the island, he would be with his family. It should have been enough. But he could not forget he had a destiny promised to him, and he could not put Faraday’s words from his mind.

Before Jack could even give his vote, there was a knock on the door. Faraday himself came inside with Miles.

“Does anyone know where I can find the Hostiles?” he asked.

It was a convoluted plan. Jack only understood half of what he was saying. But all he needed to know was one thing: finding Faraday’s mother would get them back to where— to when— they belonged.

Sawyer refused to hear it, so stuck on his own plan as he was. He would not give Faraday an inch.

Jack spoke up, finally shedding the sensation of helplessness and the feeling that he could only do as told. It was time for action. “Sawyer,” he reasoned, “he said he can get us back to where we belong. We go on the sub or we head back into the jungle... We don’t belong here.”

Sawyer was stern but emotional as he said what Jack had been feeling himself since arriving. “I belonged here just fine ‘til you came back, Doc.” He made a point of keeping eye contact, of shoving every word at Jack, of making him understand what he had ruined and continued to ruin.

Jack waited. He wrestled with himself one last time. He contemplated his last chance to do what Sawyer said, to _obey_  Sawyer.

“You know where the Hostiles are,” he asked of Kate. Sawyer’s eyes stared into the back of his head. He could feel them. Betrayal sat like a hot rock, pressing, crushing, burning. He continued anyway.

Sawyer fought him to the end. It was Juliet that settled it by giving them the code to the fence. “It’s over here for us anyway,” she said. The last thing Sawyer needed was one more betrayal, but Jack knew why she really did it. She was trying to protect Sawyer and Hank from him. Jack was a wildcard, and she was defensive.

Jack glanced at Hank before he walked out the door. The boy was confused by the proceedings. He was unsure of Jack, the man who fought against his father.

Sawyer followed him outside. He grabbed Jack hard around the arm, letting him know— in case he had forgotten— that he was an omega but he never displayed the weakness or timidity of one.

“Go,” Jack told Kate and Faraday. “I’ll catch up.”

Sawyer waited until they left, and he glared at Jack the entire time. Those fingers flexed and tightened around his arm.

“I can’t let you do this,” he declared, louder than he should have. “All this time travel bull, you can’t.”

“What are you afraid of?” Jack asked. And it was fear. He could sense it coming off Sawyer like water ripples, almost visible, almost tangible.

“Hank,” he answered quietly. And despite the strength in Sawyer, despite his pride, Jack thought was going to cry. He loosened and then dropped his hand, letting go of Jack. “He ain’t from our time. He was born in ‘75. What if we all do the time warp and he... What if he don’t come with us?”

“He will,” Jack told him with unfounded surety.

“You can’t know that,” Sawyer accused. His voice was so rushed and worried but it fell down to no more than a whisper. “He’s just a little boy. He’s just a- just a little guy. What if I leave him all alone? We ain’t never been apart. He won’t know what to do. I can’t just leave him alone.”

“You won’t,” Jack promised, and he only wished he had Faraday’s expertise in physics to back him up. “He _will_ come with us. He doesn’t belong in this time any more than we do. It’s not time traveling to the future because we were never supposed to be here in the first place. All we are doing is returning to the present. He was born here, Sawyer, but that’s it. He’ll come with us.”

“Don’t,” Sawyer begged, a hopeful request from one parent to another.

“We have to,” Jack said. He hated it, truly, but he preferred it to everything else. “Your suggestions,” he shook his head, “your _decisions_ aren’t thinking far enough ahead. We run away to the mainland with no means to support ourselves, or we run away to the beach— barely surviving, always... waiting... until Dharma finds us or the Others kill us. And what about supplies?” he asked. “How many bottles of suppressants do you think you can steal from the medical building? How long do they last? _How long_  before you’re in heat again? How long until you’re...” He lowered his voice upon realizing how loud he was getting. “How long until you’re pregnant again because you’re convinced you had no choice? _This_  is the choice, Sawyer, and I have to make it. We can’t live in the jungle and... wait for every bad thing to hit us, not again. That’s not the life I want for Hank. I know you feel the same. I cannot take either of those choices, not after I finally got back, not after I found you again. So I am... sorry, Sawyer, I am, but I have to go with Option C.”

Sawyer stood still on the spot, staring at the ground as Jack patted him on the shoulder and turned away, to do what he had to.

“When you realize you’ve made a huge mistake,” Sawyer said to his back, “we’ll be back at the beach, right where we started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my mind about not making this season into three chapters. Because the next section starts splitting the perspective between Jack and Sawyer again, and I thought it best to keep that separate since these first two parts were exclusively Jack.
> 
> So. One more chapter left to cover season five.


	8. Season Five - Part 3

Sawyer wasted every second he could spare watching Jack walk away. Then he went back inside the house to pack everything he could carry for two people, him and Hank.

Juliet set a backpack in a chair. “Hank’s things,” she said, “most of his clothes, some toys.”

Sawyer smiled at her, sad but grateful. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“I did,” she disagreed, and her hand tightened on the bag. “I’m sorry I told them about the gate code.”

“Don’t be.” Sawyer shook his head. “It’s over here for us, blondie, like you said. Jack was goin’ with or without you. Bastard ain’t never had an easy time doin’ what he was told. So if you hadn’t given him that code... he woulda just left with us and then bolted first chance he got.”

Juliet hugged Sawyer like she knew he needed.

“You called it the minute those yahoos got here,” he said, holding her, rocking back and forth so delicately. “I shoulda listened to you.” He rested his head against hers. “You can say, ‘I told you so.’” There were a lot of scoldings he had coming. Getting mixed up with Jack Shephard again was a bad one.

“Maybe after we get to the beach.” She pulled away and patted his chest. “I’ll pack you a bag before I have to go home and do my own.” She tilted her head, indicating the dining room where Hank still sat. “Talk to him. He’s scared, James.”

Sawyer smiled again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Juliet left, into the back, to Sawyer’s room so she could pack him some clothes.

Sawyer whistled, getting Hank’s attention. “C’mere, boy.”

Hank jumped down from his chair and walked over. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. The day had only just started, but it was so out of the ordinary that even he knew something big was happening.

“Listen up, twerp,” Sawyer said. He squatted down on Hank’s level and pulled him close. “We gotta leave.”

“For all of today?” he asked, thinking it was just an ordinary work day and he was getting dropped off at someone’s house.

“No.” Sawyer shook his head. “It’s gonna be more like for all of forever,” he told Hank, knowing the boy could not possibly understand an absolute timeframe. “We ain’t never comin’ back. You understand?”

“Why?” Hank was upset by the decision and understandably so. The house and the Barracks were all he knew.

“Because I said so,” Sawyer stated. “Now, I’m sorry, but we ain’t got time for twenty questions. Instead I’m gonna tell you something real important, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It’s gonna be a date,” he said, “a day when something happens. Now, it’s not like saying ‘yesterday’ of ‘Friday.’ It’s a calendar date. And it’s real important to me that you remember it. Can you do that for me, buddy?” Hank nodded his head. “September 22, 2004. That’s the year 2004, all right? And the month will be September and the day is the 22nd. September 22, 2004.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Hank said. What big vacant eyes he had, those innocent eyes of a child.

“Say it,” Sawyer ordered. “Say it back to me. Say September 22, 2004.”

“Sep...”

“September.”

“Sep...”

Sawyer exhaled and it was a hopeless, sobbing sound. The boy was two. He could never remember. “Forget that, Hank. Forget that. I’m gonna say some numbers instead, all right? You know your numbers.” Hank nodded happily, proud of himself in that area. “Okay, here goes: 9, 22, 04. Say that.”

“Nine,” he repeated slowly. “Twenty-two...” He paused, stuck on the last one.

“Zero-four,” Sawyer supplied. Hank quickly said it back to him. “Now all of them again.”

“Nine,” Hank said, “twenty-two, zero-four.”

Sawyer sighed in relief. “Good job, buddy,” he said. “Now I want you to keep saying those numbers. Don’t stop.”

“Nine, twenty-two, zero-four,” he said, and he continued repeating them in a loop as instructed.

Sawyer kissed the top of his little blond head. “Okay now,” he said, “I might go away soon. It might be for a... a real long time.” Hank looked immediately confused and worried. That had never happened before, not for any longer than a day. “But I’m gonna come back. I promise. I’m gonna come back to the island on one specific day. And I want you to come and find me, okay?” Hank nodded with no idea what he was agreeing to. “Say it back to me again, Hank. Say the numbers.”

“Nine, twenty-two, zero-four.”

Sawyer grabbed him and hugged him so tightly. “That’s my smart boy. Again.”

“Nine, twenty-two, zero-four.”

“Don’t stop,” Sawyer said. “You know how I say you have to be quiet sometimes?” He nodded. “Well, now I’m givin’ you permission to keep on talking. You don’t stop sayin’ those numbers, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” Then, remembering his mission, he immediately resumed his loop of, “Nine, twenty-two, zero-four.”

“And you know that Ben kid?” Hank nodded while repeating his numbers. “You stay close to him. ‘Cause somethin’ bad is gonna happen here in ten or however many years. You stay close to Ben.”

“Close to Ben. Nine, twenty-two, zero-four.”

Sawyer smiled and ruffled his long hair before standing back up. “But for now, you stay with me, ya hear?” Hank nodded. “Good boy. I’ll make it up to you once we get to where we’re goin’. You’re gonna love it. Get to see the ocean.” Years ago, Sawyer had gotten sick off the sight of it, that unending blue stretch. Now he wished they were already there.

An alarm went off throughout the Barracks, that sporadic, blaring honk that never heralded good news.

“Don’t you leave my side.”

Hank obediently followed him down the hall to relieve Juliet. But they had not even reached the room when the front door burst wide open.

“LaFleur!” Radzinsky screamed, barging into the house.

Radzinsky found Phil.

+

When they stopped for a water break, Jack took the opportunity to ask Faraday why his mother was wrong, why they did not belong there like she had said in the future.

Faraday explained the cause of the Swan Station, the incident that resulted in Desmond and then their group having to push a button. He told them that exact malfunction was set to happen in four hours.

He told them they could change it.

“We can change our destiny,” he said. “That Hatch will never be built, and your plane... Your plane will land, just like it’s supposed to, in Los Angeles.”

It sounded too good to be true. But Jack knew there were so many prices required for such a change, so many sacrifices it would demand.

Kate tried to talk Jack out of it as they began walking again, following behind Faraday. She said it was insanity to erase everything they had been through. Kate did not see the opportunity for what it was.

Stopping that plane from crashing would bring back the dead. It would fix lives. It would save Jack from the horror he always feared: being a bad father.

Preventing the crash was why he was there. It was his destiny.

+

They handcuffed Sawyer to a chair in the security room. Juliet sat just the same across from him. Hank was put over at the desk, out of the way.

Sawyer was stubbornly, aggressively quiet for their questions. When Radzinsky hit him, Hank started crying.

“Boy don’t need to be here for this,” Sawyer told them. It was not a request. More it was an order, though he lacked any authority or power to give it. “You take him outside.”

Horace looked over at Hank. Naturally kind heart aside, the man was a father himself now. But Radzinsky stopped Horace from intervening. Then he hit Sawyer again.

“Tell us what we want to know,” he said, “and there won’t be anything for your son to see, LaFleur.”

Hank cried.

They asked where Kate was. They asked where the Hostiles were. They threatened to kill him.

With every hit, Sawyer wondered what he was fighting for. Radzinsky was a nut who waved death sentences around like a wrathful god. The last thing Sawyer needed was for the man to actually follow through and kill him, to leave Hank half-orphaned with only Jack Shephard out there. Maybe they would let Juliet go at least. Sawyer would not mind going down saving Kate and everyone if he knew Juliet could look after Hank.

Trust never went far after paranoia set in. The men beating on him did not care how invested Sawyer was in the community. They did not care that he had given birth there, raised his son there. They did not care that Juliet had saved Horace’s wife and son. And her speech summing up their past loyalties fell on deaf ears.

When Phil hit Juliet, all bets were off. Sawyer knew then that she would receive no special treatment because she was a woman. And he would not leave Hank in the hands of his would be murderers. He would not put his faith in a perpetual runaway of a father who gambled with their son’s very existence.

It was time to do what he always did, survive.

Sawyer gave Jack and the Hostiles up.

He made a deal for himself, Juliet, and Hank to leave on the sub along with everyone else.

The ride did not last long, not for them.

+

Hank loved Vincent. It was a small blessing to watch the mundane interaction between a boy and a dog. After the day Hank had been through— watching his father beaten, deported from his only home, escaping from a submarine— he needed such an everyday joy like playing with a damn dog. It did Sawyer’s heart good to watch them.

“Your son is beautiful,” Rose told him. “He looks just like Jack.”

Sawyer chuckled. “Well, that’s a first,” he said. “All I ever heard is how he’s the damn spittin’ image of yours truly.”

“No,” she disagreed. “No, that boy has got a whole lot of Jack in him.” Sawyer would not argue further. If she saw it without even being told who Hank’s father was, that was proof enough. “I just hope he doesn’t have that stubborn side to him,” Rose said.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Sawyer rolled his eyes. “And now I gotta stop senior from settin’ off a bomb that just might take us all outta here.”

Rose and Bernard had no fight left. They had given up caring about the constant threat of death around them all. Sawyer ached for that luxury. But he had a family to protect.

He was tempted to leave Hank with the blissfully married couple so that he might be out of harm’s way. But if Jack really was going to blow the island up, if Sawyer could not stop him, he would rather his son be with him when it went down.

As luck so often did not have it, Sawyer and his group did not even have to walk the five miles to the Barracks. Jack came driving right up on them.

+

Gravel skittered up around the van as it tore up the crude road and dragged to a halt.

“Why the hell are we stopping?” Jack demanded.

“That’s why.” Hurley pointed out at the road in front of them.

Sawyer stood there, holding a rifle like a powerful, meaningful threat. Juliet and Kate flanked him on either side. Hank stood behind his leg, barely to be seen.

Jack stepped out, hoping to waste as little time as possible. “What’s going on?” he asked the small band, his impending gate.

“Doc, we gotta talk.” Sawyer’s expression suffered no tolerance nor understanding. There were blood and cuts on his face; he, like Jack, had been on the wrong end of an assault since that morning. The gun in his hands made refusal deadly, or at least injurious.

Jack stood in the road, watching him, frittering away precious time they did not have. “You wanna talk?” he said. “Then get in the van. We don’t have time—”

“I ain’t gettin’ in the van,” Sawyer shouted, and he was a rock. He would sooner have that van run him over than back down. Jack bit his bottom lip as he took in a breath, wishing for the strength to take on so many stresses at once. Sawyer was always good at adding to. “I need five minutes,” the man said as he approached, gun still propped against his arm, “that’s all. I’ll say what I gotta say, and then you can do what the hell you want to.” Jack watched the little boy— their little boy— that followed in Sawyer’s every step. “But you’re gonna listen. You owe me that much, Jack.”

Nothing would come from their standstill but the misspent deadline of what he had to do. Jack gave in, knowing Sawyer never would. The man would only benefit from running down the clock.

“Five minutes,” Jack allowed.

As a sign of good faith, he put his gun in the van. Sawyer handed his to Juliet. With one word, Hank transferred to her side.

Jack followed Sawyer into the trees.

He stopped about three dozen yards in, as soon as there was a clearing far enough that they could have a private conversation.

“Take a load off, Doc,” he said, acting much more amiable now that it was only them. The mask of hatred was untied. There was bitterness and anger, but they were fleeting emotions. Sawyer sat on a large rock. He motioned for Jack to do the same.

“No thanks.”

“Sit down, Jack.” He was tired and he was pleading, but it was nothing less than a command. Jack complied. “You remember...” Sawyer wasted only a second with his hesitance. He knew he needed to say everything he could in the short time he had. Unnecessary pauses were something he could not take. “You remember right before y’all left,” he said. “And you... you noticed that I’d gone a little different. I wasn’t... I just didn’t give a damn anymore.”

“You brought me out here to finally tell me what that was about?” Jack scoffed. He cared about it three years ago, and many individual days since. Today was not one of those days.

“Damn straight,” Sawyer said. “I brought out here to say...” He stopped again but picked his speech up more quickly. “My folks died when I was eight-years-old. I ever tell you that one?”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“Con man took my dad for everything he had,” Sawyer said, telling the story with such detachment, narrating like it happened to someone else. Only time— a lifetime— could do that. “He didn’t handle it too well, so... he shot my mom. Then he blew his own head off. I was hidin’ under the bed when it happened. I heard the whole thing.”

Jack tried to think of anything to say. There had to be something better than, “I’m sorry,” but that was all he could get out.

The event explained at least one of the many reasons why Sawyer once rebelled against the idea of family. It told why he did not want one, why he did not trust an alpha, a husband. It confessed why he was so afraid of Jack changing events and risking their son.

Jack wanted to say he was not Sawyer’s father. He would not kill his family. But rewriting the existence of it seemed little better.

“Yeah,” Sawyer sighed, and it was within Jack’s paranoid mind to think the man was confirming every thought in his head. “That was a year ago.”

“What?” Jack asked, trying to understand.

“Right now it’s July 1977,” Sawyer told him, “which means that happened last year. So I could’ve hopped on the sub, gone back to the States, walked right into my house, and stopped my daddy from killing anybody.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jack asked, trying to see Sawyer’s point, wondering why he would not spare himself so much pain.

“Because, Jack,” he said, so calm and understanding, “what’s done is done. Now…” He stopped again. That old shame washed over him, that fear of judgment. Only his dwindling time could make him get over the hurdle. “Three years ago… that man, that con man, he was on this island.” He knew that Jack was going to ask, so he addressed the matter quickly. “Don’t ask me how. It’s one of those things we ain’t never gonna get answered. I killed that man, Jack,” he said with no further preamble. “I killed him. I made him pay for what he did to me and my family. And you know what? Didn’t help none. Gave me closure and not a damn thing else. Made me a zombie. Made people who- who cared about me worry.” He looked at Jack almost timidly. “You can’t change the past. You can’t. And you can’t try and force it right, not like I did. You gotta let it go. Let it go, Jack. Just let it go.”

Jack shook his head, but it felt like an unconscious twitch, an emotional refusal. “No,” he mouthed. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he voiced.

Sawyer stared at him. He was not judgmental. For the moment, he was a sympathetic ear. “Does that damn alpha head of yours think you screwed up so bad the first time around that you’re seriously willin’ to blow up a damn nuke just for a second chance?”

“That’s not what this is about,” Jack lied.

“Then _what_  is it about?”

Jack licked his lips. “Three years ago,” he said, “Locke told me that all this was happening for a reason, that us being here was our destiny.”

“I don’t speak ‘destiny’,” Sawyer argued. “What I do understand is a man does what he does ‘cause he wants somethin’ for himself.” His eyes were so big, so open and earnestly asking. “What do you want, Jack?”

Jack did not answer for several seconds, and when he did finally speak, it was in respect for Sawyer’s allotted time. “Hank,” he said, lying no longer. It was pointless. Sawyer knew him too well sometimes.

“Hank? Well, damn, Jack, he’s standing right on the other side of those trees,” Sawyer exclaimed. “You wanna be his father, just kick yourself in the ass and act like one.”

“I think we both know...” Jack shook his head. He took one deep breath, in and out. He hit a closed fist against his knee. “I think we both know that he’s not... really there, not for me. He’s your son, James. It’s too late for anything else.”

Sawyer was frustrated with him, but he was saddened as well. Hank’s love meant so much to him; Jack had seen it. On some level, Sawyer was able to understand the desperation of a world without it.

Jack stood. “Your five minutes is up.”

“Jack,” Sawyer yelled at his back, trying to steal his attention. “If what you’re doin’ even works, you and me will be strangers,” he reminded. “And I’ll be on damn suppressants with no wish in my mind to change it.”

“If it’s meant to be,” Jack spoke, turning his head to say it, “it’s meant to be.”

Sawyer dropped his gaze down to the ground. Darkness entered his eye through shadow. “Well, I guess there’s nothin’ I can say that’s gonna change your mind.” He was contemplative, and of that mindset Jack was wary.

“No, I guess there’s not.”

Jack went spinning. A hard hit to the cheek slid across and into his nose. He should have expected it.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Sawyer shouted.

He punched him again, but Jack caught the next fist after. Sawyer hit him with his right hand instead. When Jack tried to fight back on instinct, Sawyer dodged the blow. He got a few more jabs in before Jack finally landed some of his own. He knocked Sawyer down onto the jungle floor.

When he clambered back up, Sawyer spit blood and ire. “You think you can come here and do whatever the hell you want?” Jack tried to leave again, not wanting to fight him, but Sawyer charged, yelling, “I had a life here!” He grabbed Jack around the middle and pinned him hard against a tree.

Jack kneed Sawyer in the stomach and sent him back down to the ground with a solid hit.

“Sawyer, listen,” he tried to rationalize.

Sawyer kicked him swiftly right between the legs, and Jack thought it was nothing if not intentional, personal. As Jack doubled over from the pain of it, Sawyer hit him in the face with a fallen branch and struck him down into the dirt.

“Think you can do this ‘cause you’re an alpha, huh?” Sawyer hollered as he staggered to his feet. “‘Cause what you say goes? You think I’m supposed to just roll over and take it?!”

He fell on top of Jack and put a clamping vise of a hand around his throat. He squeezed.

“Will you stop?” he demanded. Jack did not doubt the threat of that hand, that choking death. Sawyer may have been an omega, but he never displayed the weakness of one. And at the moment, Jack was giving him a righteous excuse to use his strength. He was threatening to take away Sawyer’s child. “Will you stop?!”

“No,” Jack uttered, refusing to lie. The betrayal afterward would have been tenfold.

Sawyer loosened his grip around Jack’s neck only to transfer all concentration to his other hand. He pummeled Jack’s face, beating him over and over.

“James!” came a scream, Jack’s saving grace, for he had no doubt that Sawyer would kill him. Their intimacy, however past or recent, meant nothing compared to risking the child of an omega. “Let him go,” Juliet said, stern and serious.

Sawyer’s battering hand fell, but the one around Jack’s throat tightened again, bit by bit. “He won’t listen,” Sawyer justified as he closed that hand, digging his fingers into Jack’s neck. “I have to. He won’t stop!”

“James, stop it!” Juliet yelled. “You’re going to kill him!”

“Better him than Hank,” Sawyer growled. It was the proclamation of a death sentence. He would kill Jack for refusing to put their son first in this universe.

Juliet grabbed him from behind and pulled. Sawyer looked crazed enough to hold on, but she was his common sense, his conscience in a time when morality was gray and any decision seemed justified. He let go of Jack, refusing to stoop to murder.

She held Sawyer, one arm over his shoulder and the other around his waist. Slowly, she pulled him to his feet. “It’ll be okay,” she promised. “Listen to me. It will be okay.” She turned him around and put a hand on either side of his face, forcing Sawyer to look her in the eye. “Hank exists. He will always exist because he was born. What’s happened has happened. That is what Daniel always, always said. The universe will correct its course.”

“So what?” Sawyer barked. “I’m supposed to wake up on an airplane and fuck this bastard to set the cosmos right? ‘Cause I don’t see that happenin’.”

Jack was still trying to catch his breath when Sawyer jerked forward and kicked him in the ribs, one last blow before he settled down.

“He’s right. We don’t belong here,” Juliet said. “The sub is gone, James. It’s gone. We can’t leave. We are stuck here. I know... you remember what it was like to live in the jungle: injuries without supplies, sickness without medicine, shortages of food, deaths that could have been prevented. Dharma is out there, James, and so are the Others. We only have so much favor with either of them. Hank... deserves to grow up away from this island. You know it will never be good or safe here. You know that.”

Sawyer was crying, Jack could tell. The canopy’s filtered sunlight got caught and made his eyes glossy. When the tears became too heavy, they fell down his cheeks, unnoticed. “You promise me,” he demanded. “You promise me that it’ll all be okay, that Hank will still exist.”

“I promise,” Juliet said, giving just enough pause to sound credible. Sawyer believed her. She was his rock and his decision maker. He trusted her.

Jack laid on the ground, wisely abstaining from the exchange.

“I’m gonna...” Sawyer swallowed and sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. He pointed back the way they came. “I’m gonna go... be with him,” he finished quietly, making it all sound so futile. He did not look at Jack when he left. Sawyer abandoned him to the judgment and disappointment of Juliet.

She watched Sawyer leave them. She listened until the cracking sticks and crunching leaves could no longer be heard. Then she reached down and gave Jack a hand up.

“Thanks,” he said. His voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk. He rubbed at his crushed throat. There would probably be bruises.

“Yes, Jack,” she said, “you should thank me. He was about to kill you, and I just lied to him to save your life.”

She did not know if Hank would exist in the new world any better than Jack did. They hoped, both of them together, for Sawyer’s sake. Jack selfishly wished it for himself as well.

“I know...” She was on the brittle edge of crying. “I know better, Jack, than to try talking you out of something you’ve set your mind to. There’s no changing it. But before you go and change what you feel that you have to, I just want you to know what you’re sacrificing here. James... loves that little boy,” she said, “in ways I _never_  would have thought he was capable of when I first met him. I know we won’t have any memories or control over our actions if you succeed, but... don’t take that from him unless you’re sure it’s worth the risk.” She stuck her hand out. Jack shook it on reflex. “Goodbye, Jack. I hope everything works out on the other side.”

“I’m doing this because I’m supposed to. It’s why I’m here, Juliet.” She nodded her head, but he doubted if she believed him.

Jack went back to the van. Sawyer was sitting in the backseat with Hank in his lap. He did not look at Jack.

Sayid finished modifying the bomb, making it ready to blow on impact. Jack placed it in his backpack and carefully put his arms through the straps, mindful not to disturb the delicate pressure sensors.

There were those among them that supported Jack. Others wanted him to stop. Some were not sure what they wanted, but they would not stand in his way.

One last look at Hank felt more like guilt than a reason to fight. But it would be worth it. Everything would be worth it.

“I’ll see you in Los Angeles,” Jack said to Sawyer.

They had a plane to catch, a date to meet, a son to have. Jack told himself it would happen. It was meant to be, just as he was meant to stop the Hatch from being built. The electromagnetism would never drag them down. They would never crash. And when he and Sawyer met, when they had a baby, it would be because they both wanted it and were ready for it— not because they had to, not because Sawyer ran out of suppressants and Jack forced him to make a decision. They would no longer have to live with that.

They would be a family because they chose it.

+

“Nine, twenty-two, zero-four. Nine, twenty-two...”

They sat. They stood. They waited for the end, not knowing what would happen, not knowing when.

Sawyer leaned against the van and wiped at the drying blood on his face. He kept looking at Hank in the backseat, tucked away from the tropical sun.

Maybe it would be best for Hank to grow up in the real world. And maybe Sawyer would wake up in that reality with a blank slate; he would not hate Jack with good reason. A kid needed two parents.

“Nine, twenty-two, zero-four.”

“Uh,” Miles spoke up, “am I allowed to ask why the kid keeps repeating those numbers? It’s creepy in a ‘redrum’ kind of way. Except instead of that it sounds like the date you guys’ plane crashed.”

“It is,” Sawyer confirmed. “Because Jack’s a stubborn ass on his mission to go do something stupid.”

“Dude,” Hurley interrupted, “should you be swearing like that in front of the k-i-d?”

“Hank, don’t say ‘ass’,” Sawyer ordered.

The boy stopped in his repetition of numbers long enough to say, “Yes, sir,” before continuing back on track.

“James,” Kate said, “what’s the plan? If Jack detonates that thing and it works like Faraday said, there won’t be a plane crash for Hank to find. He won’t even...”

Sawyer cut her the meanest look, daring her to finish that sentence, to say Hank would not exist. “I’m coverin’ all my bases,” he said. “There’s no tellin’ what might happen. Three things at least. Either we get squat and we’re still stuck here, or Jack succeeds and that damn plane never crashes. But maybe it’s neither of those things and we wind up back in the future somehow. And maybe Hank doesn’t come along with us. If that’s the case, I want him to find me as soon as he can.”

“It’s not _you_  he’ll find,” Kate argued. “It’ll just be a thirty-year-old man walking out of the jungle and saying you’re his father, right after we land. Would you believe him?”

“I guess we’ll see,” he said stubbornly.

“Except,” Hurley pointed out, “a thirty-year-old man didn’t walk out of the jungle and say you’re his father. So,” he considered, “a thirty-year-old man... doesn’t walk out of the jungle and say you’re his father. Because... time travel. I’m getting it.”

“Shut up, Hugo.”

They heard a sputtering engine, and then they saw the jeep go rolling by, crashing into uneven terrain like a boat upon waves.

“What’s going on?” Juliet asked, unable to see.

“It’s Phil,” Jin said. “That’s the road to the Swan.”

“If they see Jack, they’re gonna kill him,” Kate said. She and everyone waited for Sawyer’s decision.

He looked to Juliet to make it. “What do you think, blondie?”

“Live together, die alone,” she said, using Jack’s own words to save him.

+

There were guards everywhere and more arrived before Jack could even begin sneaking in. He crept to the site with his gun in hand, making up a plan as he went.

The Dharma members saw him. They shot.

Jack was pinned and forced to take any cover he could find. Bullets cracked and ricocheted. It looked hopeless. He almost regretted having tried.

Then the van drove in with shots flying from its open door and window. Sawyer was driving.

There was a firefight.

It was hard to keep track, but it looked their side was winning. Necessity had long since trained them. The great turn of battle came when Sawyer snuck up and took a hostage. The Dharma people lowered and dropped their guns.

“All right,” Sawyer yelled, “you can come out now, Doc!”

Jack stood up from his hiding place. They had successfully seized the site. A gun was trained on every Dharma member still on his feet.

In his visual sweep of the crater, Jack noticed a little blond head sticking up in the very back of the van.

“You brought Hank?” Jack exclaimed, somehow being brazen enough to say it.

“Boy don’t leave my side,” Sawyer said. He dug the hot barrel of his gun into the hostage, using him to take out his frustration towards Jack. “Not if this is the end.” He nodded his head at the drill and the deep hole it dug. “Hurry up and do your business,” he ordered.

He was not happy with Jack or his actions, but he would buy him the opportunity to do as needed. Jack was only solaced in know Sawyer did not have much longer to be discontent in.

Jack held the bomb above the hole. He hesitated. He counted the many ifs in his head. What hopes he had been so sure of began to reveal themselves as a rickety chain reaction, each step so dependent upon the domino ahead of it. Jack doubted if everything would line up so nicely for them when it never had before.

“Hurry up, Jack!” Sawyer shouted at him. “What are you waiting for?! Drop it!”

Jack looked at Sawyer. He looked at the man struggling in his arms with a gun to his head. Sawyer nodded, the slightest of movements, giving his consent just one more time. If he was willing to risk it, Jack would too.

He dropped the bomb.

And nothing happened.

Seconds lived past their prime, stretching thin and lasting for days as they waited for something, for death.

Then with a lurch, machines and supports bent. The pit belched dust and grit. It began dragging every metal thing down inside. Beams groaned. Electricity hissed and crackled.

All metal became weaponized. The larger constructs were dragged. Smaller objects flew to the magnetic call.

Something struck Jack in the back of the head, adding to his injuries and knocking him unconscious. He fell face first into gravel.

Awareness came back sluggishly, reluctantly. Jack’s first realized sensation was the noise. There was screaming. There was sobbing and shrieking.

“Juliet!” he heard through the creaking of metal and the ringing in his ears.

“Sawyer, get off of there!”

Jack stood unsteadily on his feet when all he wanted was to lay back down. His vision was blurred, but Sawyer was laying over the twisted, mangled mound of metal that covered the pit.

He was moaning Juliet’s name and reaching out hopelessly with his hand. Jack could only assume she had been dragged down into the glutinous pit of Hell that would doom them all despite Jack’s attempt to stop it.

Jack ran to Sawyer. He wrapped his arms around the man and pulled, but he did not want to go.

“James!” he shouted. “Come on! Let go! Think about Hank! You have to leave! We have to leave!”

It was only his duty as father that caused Sawyer to give up. He let Jack carry him away to a safe distance— or as safe as there could be with such awakened destruction.

Jack dropped him down against the side of a truck where they would be safe from any more projectiles. When they heard a high-pitched scream, Jack made Sawyer stay where he was.

“I’ll get him,” he shouted.

Jack felt dizzy and tired, and heroic feats were the last thing his body needed. But he sprinted to the van and he jumped inside. Hank climbed over the seat and right into his arms. He clung to Jack with desperation and trust and reliance. Jack held him just as tightly.

It felt good to cradle Hank, to protect him. It was all he ever wanted, to have Hank depend on him so completely.

When the bomb went off, Jack’s last thought was that maybe he was not such a bad father after all, and maybe there was still some hope for their family in this universe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how many of you have been around young kids before. I have no idea what it is, but (in my experience) they can tell when someone is trying too hard to get their attention and affection and it puts them off. And we know from watching Jack with David that he does try too hard, so that seemed like something I should do with Hank. Not only would Jack’s extra efforts be something new to him (with everyone else in his life being a constant and already having their own varying relationships with him), but it gave me a reason to keep Jack’s actions canon compliant. Making him want to reset everything like in the end of season 5. But this time it was for Sawyer and their son instead of Kate.
> 
> Why can’t I just write happiness? I blame canon.


	9. Season Six - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to finish this fic. I am otherwise inspired right now. I have something else I really wanna write and have actually began writing. But hopefully I’ll wrap this up soon. We’re almost done. I guess I’m running out of steam at the finish line.
> 
> Also season six isn’t very inspiring. Very different vibe. Not my favorite season. But we’re here, and I’m gonna persevere, damn it!

Kate was saying his name. It dragged him insistently, pulling and tugging.

“Jack... Jack!”

His ears were ringing like a finger against the rim of crystal glass. His head was spinning even worse than before. He opened his eyes and the world was sideways. He looked down and his arms were empty.

Hank was gone.

“What happened?” he murmured. It was one of the best, most specific questions he could come up with. “Where are we?”

“At the Hatch,” Kate said.

The answer pinned him down, constraining Jack to that fate he could never escape. He sat up with a grunt and looked into the imploded site.

They still built the Swan. It still crashed their plane. It was still destroyed by Desmond. Everything was as it unchangeably was. The only difference was that now his son was missing, gone.

The thick sole of a sturdy work boot kicked Jack in the head. He went tumbling down the steep slope of the crater and to its bottom some fifteen feet below.

“You were wrong!” Sawyer shouted at him. There were many emotions in his roaring condemnation. Fury was at the front of the line. “That’s the damn Swan Hatch— _blown up_ , just like we left it before we started jumping through time!”

Kate helped Jack to his feet. He knew that if he were knocked down or laid out just one more time, he might never get up. Every instance took strength he was not sure he had anymore. And as Sawyer climbed down into the pit after him, Jack was tempted to let him do whatever he wanted. He had it all coming.

“You said we could stop it from ever being built!” Sawyer yelled. Kate held him back, a flimsy wall of tissue paper. He could barrel past her any second of his choosing. “You said that our plane would never crash on this island! This ain’t LAX!”

Kate tried to control him, but only as a barrier. She, like Juliet, knew just how capable Sawyer was of killing him. Why they continued to protect Jack was something he could not comprehend. He did not deserve their mercy. His son was gone, because of him. What Jack deserved was to be thrown to that pacing tiger and his rage.

“You blew us right back where we started!” Sawyer continued to bark at him. And then it was gone. That front of his, that primary reaction finally died out. It swirled around an unplugged drain and emptied, leaving a pitiful shell in its absence. Jack could not look at that crumbling facade. It broke his heart. “Except Juliet’s dead,” Sawyer stated. “And Hank’s gone. They’re gone, you son of a bitch, ‘cause you were wrong.”

“Sawyer,” Jack said, “I’m sorry.” There were no better words in any language, and Jack was not poetic enough to put together those he knew. He could not say— could never say— just how wrong he was or how horrible he felt. So instead he walked closer, presenting himself to Sawyer’s judgment, to do with what he would. “I thought we were supposed to... I thought it would work.”

“Well, it didn’t!” Sawyer was defeated. But that did not mean he was done blaming Jack. “You said that our plane would never crash on this island,” he accused. “But you were wrong, and it didn’t work. And if you’ve got an explanation, Jack, as to what happened and where _my son_  is,” a singular possessive he spat, “I’m waitin’ to hear it.”

“The bomb must’ve gone off,” Jack said, feeling so tired. He tried to think of anything that could explain their situation, that could reveal where Hank had gone. But he was no physicist. And he could not answer Sawyer, no matter how mocking or serious his demands for an explanation were.

“You think an atom bomb went off, we’d still be standing here?” Sawyer retorted.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s right!” Sawyer snapped. “You don’t! For once, you don’t know!” He was between wanting to be right, wanting to shove it in Jack’s face, and still wanting Jack to be that man with a plan and all the answers. He just wanted his son back.

“Jack!” came a call, and Jin came running up behind it. He stopped at the edge of the crater. “Sayid needs help.”

“Where is he?” Jack asked, not knowing how much more he could do for the man but knowing he still needed to try.

“With Hurley and Hank at the van,” Jin answered, “two minutes away. He’s still bleeding. We don’t know what to do.”

Jack’s heart soared. He thought he might cry with relief. “Did you say Hank?” he asked, just to be certain.

“Yes,” Jin said, slowly realizing the worry they must have gone through to wake up without him there. “He’s with Hurley.”

Jack ran to the slope and grabbed a vine, but Sawyer took it from him. “You can help Sayid,” he allowed, “but you stay away from Hank.”

“Sawyer, I’m sorry for what happened, but we got him—”

“Hey, shut up!” Kate yelled. She was crouching over the pit and its distorted crown of metal.

“Help,” they heard, a weak plea.

Sawyer looked to the center of the crater, then up the vine and to the cliff above. He could not choose.

“Juliet first,” Jack said, helping him make the decision. “Hank isn’t going anywhere.”

Sawyer hated Jack, but he was still grateful to have him deliberate with reason and tell him what to do. He ran and fell down over twisted steel beams that blocked Juliet from them. “Juliet!” he screamed.

“James?”

“Juliet!”

Jack ran down to help, and they began pulling away any small pieces they could. For the moment, Jack forgot Sayid, abandoning the dying in favor of one who still might have a chance. Maybe he did it for Sawyer.

There was a girder they could not move. It was too big and heavy, and a combined effort barely shifted it. Sawyer sent Jin to get the van so they could tie chains around the unmovable beam and pull it out.

He was gone for several minutes, and they continued to drag up any metal they could.

“I’ll get the chain,” Jack volunteered when Jin pulled up, wanting, needing to do anything he could for Sawyer.

They tied it to the beam, and after heaving and lifting, they managed to pull it out. Sawyer immediately climbed down inside.

Jack left him. Having done all he could for Juliet, he clambered out of pit to check on Sayid.

Hank was sitting in the front seat of the van, facing away from the man bleeding out in the back. He was upset and scared and it was not fair how many things he had been exposed to in one day.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, breaking Sawyer’s rule about staying away from him.

Hank nodded his head, but Jack could tell it was a lie. He was trying to be brave. “Twenty-two, zero-four,” he whispered in a shaking voice. “Nine, twenty-two, zero-four.”

Jack knew what he was reciting almost immediately. “Did your dad tell you to remember those numbers?” He nodded. “It’s okay to stop now, Hank... You can stop. You won’t... You won’t need them.”

He quieted at once, like an extinguished candle. He was glad to be rid of the task, however distracting it may have been from their current situation. “I go home now?” he asked.

Jack did not have a good enough explanation for why he could not— why he never would be able to. “I don’t think so,” he said. “But we’ll... we’ll find a new home for you, okay?” He had not planned so far ahead. Everything was supposed to end with the bomb. What sort of life was there for his son now?

Hank said nothing. He stared straight ahead, barely seeing over the dash.

Sayid was looking bad. The bullet was still inside. Jack had no way to suture the hole, nor did he have any blood to put back in him. Unless some miracle fell from the sky, Sayid was done for.

It was Hurley that offered a solution, saying they should go to a temple. He sounded so sure of its promise. Jack had no better option. He had no reason to object. He was tired of leading and once more ready to admit that he was bad at it, wrong for it. So he agreed.

Jack went to the side of the crater to announce their plan and to see if he could help. Sawyer emerged from the hole they made. He was carrying Juliet. And if his contemptuous, murderous glare was any indication, she was no longer with them.

“You did this,” Sawyer said.

Jack knew he did, and he was sorry. But after apologizing so many times in only a few days, it was beginning to feel like such a meaningless word, incapable of surviving his abuse.

Miles helped raise Juliet out of the pit. To Jin, Sawyer gave the order to keep Hank from seeing.

Jack stayed out of the way.

+

Sunrise flashed quickly as they worked, exploding like a firework that lit the sky but did not leave. They laid Juliet out on the ground and covered her in a tarp. Only then did Sawyer allow himself the joy of holding his son again.

He reached through the window and pulled Hank out. They were both so thankful to have each other back. Those little arms held tight around his neck and would not let go again for anything. Sawyer understood and he squeezed just as hard. He rested his dirty head with its blood matted hair against him.

“Thought I lost you,” Sawyer whispered.

“I wan’ go home,” Hank said.

Sawyer sniffed and unlatched Hank’s arms from behind his head. He pulled the boy away and sat him on the ground. “C’mere,” he said. Sawyer led Hank to the edge of the brush to have a conversation he would not understand.

Hank accepted that they could not go home, though he would no doubt still slip up and ask. It was Juliet he did not comprehend.

Outside of a few butterflies they released, Hank had never kept pets. So explaining death was not easy. There was no practice for the boy, no past experience. Sawyer talked to him without talking down. He told the truth— or its least horrifying version. And when he was finished, when Hank did not cry, he knew it was only because the boy still did not get it.

Sawyer could not explain again. He could not repeat over and over that Juliet was gone. He was not even sure where he was going to find the strength to bury her.

“Go ask Jin for some water,” he said instead, knowing Hank must have been thirsty.

He walked off.

Sawyer took a big breath, but it helped nothing. He had no better idea of what to do. Even if he did, there was no energy to do it. The tank was empty and running on fumes. He was tired, and he was thoroughly done with scratching out a survival between calamitous acts. He missed Juliet. She could have helped him. Sawyer was alone and powerless, and he did not trust himself with anything too important at the moment. All he wanted to do was make it to some finish line of his own choosing— and collapse.

He removed his Dharma jumpsuit and dropped it on the ground. That part of his life was well and truly over.

“You going with them?” Kate asked. She nodded at the party that was ready to set out with a dying Sayid.

“No,” he said. He opened up the back of the van. “I’m gonna bury her.” It was the longest lasting plan he had. Anything past it was black.

“Let me help you.” Kate put her hand over the shovels he was reaching for.

“Help Sayid,” he said, not caring one way or the other how much help the bastard got. It was Sayid’s fault Sawyer’s world got turned upside down, Sayid and Jack’s. Sawyer took the two shovels out of the van and would not give her one. “Hey, Miles,” he asked, “you mind hangin’ back?”

“You got it, boss.”

Sawyer knew he could count on him. It was one of his few remaining constants.

“I’ll make sure to leave a trail so you can follow us,” Kate said.

Sawyer stopped. He looked at Hank. The boy was standing off to the side of the clearing, trying his best not to get in the way of everything going on.

For the first time in three years, Sawyer did not have a plan. He felt as lost as the day he killed Locke’s father. Burying Juliet was as far as he saw his future.

Maybe it was that traitorous omega side of his brain, inherently submissive, but he wanted someone to order him around. He wanted Juliet to tell him what to do.

“I ain’t followin’ nobody, Kate,” he decided.

“Hank can’t stay out here in the jungle,” she said, getting it all wrong.

“You think I’m in any state to hold his hand and play mommy right now?” Sawyer stated.

“He needs you,” Kate said. “James, he needs his father.”

“Yeah, well,” Sawyer sneered, “introduce him to Jack.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Man’s skated by for two years,” Sawyer said. “For two years he hasn’t done a damn thing. _I_  provided for Hank. _I_  protected him. Jack’s the man with a million plans? Let him look after Hank for his turn. ‘cause I got nothin’, Kate. And I ain’t draggin’ that boy all across creation ’til I think of something.”

Kate wanted to fight him on it, but his mind was made up. Hank needed him for security and consistency but precious little else at the moment.

“I’ll look after him,” Kate conceded, helping him where he needed it.

“Go,” Sawyer told her. He looked at the caravan preparing to find that vague temple of miracles. “They ain’t gonna wait on you forever.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you soon, James.”

He nodded his head at her, his little thanks for a little reprieve. Then he called Hank over. Sawyer knelt down on his level. “I got some stuff to do,” he said. “And it ain’t for little boys. So I want you to go with Kate there. She’s gonna look after you for a bit.”

Hank shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“Now’s not the time to be arguing,” Sawyer said. Hank was such a well-behaved child, and it was not fair to demand it from him in that moment. “You’re gonna give me a hug and a kiss, and then you’re gonna go with Kate. You understand?”

He jumped forward and hugged Sawyer.

“That’s my boy.” Sawyer ran his fingers through that tow-headed hair of his. He held tight. He gave him a kiss. “I’ll see you soon, all right? I love you.”

“I love you,” Hank said back.

Sawyer waited for Kate to lead Hank away. He bent down and picked up Juliet’s limp and broken body. One last look over his shoulder told him what he already knew: Jack was watching with those big, guilty eyes of his. Let him look. Let him know what that arrogance of his cost. He was wrong, and Sawyer was right. The past could not be changed. There were no shortcuts to happiness, not for them.

Jack looked away first, from shame. Then Sawyer went with Miles to find a nice, beautiful spot for Juliet.

+

Jack knew he would see Sawyer again. Just the fact that his party had Hank gave the inevitability away. He could not blame Sawyer for sending the boy with them. The only alternative was Hank sitting on the sidelines while Sawyer and Miles buried Juliet. That was the last thing he needed to watch and endure.

The temple Jin led them to was a crumbling relic. No one liked when they had to go underneath it, no one except Hank. He was blessed with the intrepid spirit of childhood. They kept him from seeing the decomposing body of twenty years, and after that, everything was an adventure.

He wanted a torch, but that was not something any of them would allow. He kept close to Kate, as Sawyer no doubt instructed, but he would veer off to touch things: wall carvings, cobwebs, dead bugs. If not for the fact Hank’s life until now predated any of the movies, Jack might have thought he was pretending to be Indiana Jones.

Jack kept an eye on Hank. All the guilt, all the doubt could not dissever that ingrained notion to protect. So he watched Hank, and he did not falter in his self-assigned duty. Not until he was required to focus on the stretcher and Sayid, carrying him over a nasty pit with Jin on the other end. When they safely crossed and looked around, there was no one but Hurley. Jack set the stretcher down.

“Where’s Kate?”

“She’s right over there,” Hurley said, pointing at the bouncing light of her torch on cave walls.

“Kate?” Jack took Hurley’s flashlight. “Kate?” He went running after her torch. “Hank!”

Being captured by the Others, again, was definitely one of the last things Jack wanted to deal with.

The situation worked in their favor though, or as close as it could get. The Others did not kill them, and they tried their best to fix Sayid. But he was just another person Jack failed to save.

They sat in quiet until an unconscious Sawyer was dragged in with Miles right behind him.

“Daddy!” Hank cried. He circled around the men carrying Sawyer until they laid him out on the stone floor. “Whassa matter?”

Jack hesitated where he sat, but in the end he got up to check on Sawyer and put Hank’s mind at ease.

“Hey,” Kate asked Miles, “what happened?”

“They jumped us in the jungle,” he explained. “He took four of them out... before one of them hit him with a damn rock.”

Jack checked the back of his head. There was some bleeding, noticeable from the rest of it that covered him only because it was fresh. His pupils shrank normally when Jack opened his eyes. He would be all right.

“He’s okay,” Jack told Hank. “He just has to sleep it off for a bit. Do you understand?”

Hank nodded and sat down next to Sawyer, diligently watching and patiently waiting for him to wake up.

Jack went back to keeping his distance after that, knowing Sawyer would not be happy to see him hovering.

+

Sawyer woke up when he did not want to. There was the soft, cleansing sensation of a rag on his face, wiping away the dirt and sweat and blood.

“Hey,” Kate said when he opened his eyes.

“Where are we?” he asked. “Oof,” he exclaimed when a two-year-old crashed on top of him. “Hey squirt.” He rubbed Hank’s head where it rested on his chest.

“I miss you,” Hank said.

“We’re in a temple,” Kate answered.

Sawyer sighed. “We got caught by the Others again,” he remembered.

“Yeah,” she said, “only this time they’re trying to protect us. I think.”

He patted Hank’s head. “Raise up a minute.” Sawyer sat up with a groan, feeling sore all over. His head was the worst of it.

“I’m so sorry,” Kate said, but he was still not in a mood for sympathies. Jack had worn them all out for the moment.

Sawyer glanced around the large room, and there the man sat, on the opposite bank of some dark, bubbling pool. He looked troubled and upset, and from those emotions Sawyer took selfish satisfaction.

“You know, what you said back at the Hatch?” Kate said, speaking in reference of his threat to kill Jack. “He’s just trying to help.”

Sawyer held Hank in his lap. He put a hand over either of his ears when he said, “I ain’t gonna kill Jack.” It was not a merciful decision. “He deserves to suffer on this rock just like the rest of us. Insecure bastard always thought he’d be a bad father. Why would I let him out of the universe where he knows it’s true? I say let him live with it.” He uncovered Hank’s ears.

Then everything went calm and quiet— until Sayid dragged himself back to life.

Sawyer did not care. He just watched Hank run around in the sunlit courtyard. The boy had found some friends, from their own plane crash no less, and he was enjoying himself even though the kids were a couple times his age.

Sawyer’s gaze extended past Hank and to the reinforced gates of the temple.

“How is that even possible?” Kate asked, watching the revived Sayid with such apprehension. “I mean, one minute he’s gone, and now he’s fine?”

“Of course he’s fine,” Sawyer muttered.

“What’s that mean?”

“He’s an Iraqi torturer who shoots kids,” he bitterly pointed out. “He definitely deserves another go around.” Sawyer looked inside the pool room and out at the courtyard again. Kate noticed.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“How many guys with guns you think are outside this place?” He counted and recounted all he could see on the inside, but there was no telling what sort of guard patrolled the exterior.

“What?”

“I was out cold when they brought me in here,” Sawyer said. “How many guards did you see? Five? Ten? A hundred?”

“What are you thinking?” Kate asked seriously, lowering her voice to keep him from trouble.

“I’m thinking about runnin’, Kate,” he answered plainly, obviously.

“What about Hank?” she demanded, trying to reason with him. “You can’t just leave him again.”

“You watch him,” Sawyer said. The words did not settle. They churned like a spiteful taunt. “You’re good at that, right? Good at lookin’ after other people’s kids. Isn’t that what you do?” It was an unnecessarily cruel comment. But at the moment he felt unnecessarily cruel.

“Maybe,” she said, not letting his malice affect her, “but I’m not as good as you are. He needs you.”

“No, he don’t,” Sawyer argued. “Not right now. I’m fumblin’ around here with no idea what’s comin’ next or what I’ll do when it gets here. I’m in a bad place, Kate,” he confessed. “You really think what’s best for him is seein’ me like this?” Kate would not reply, but that was all the answer he needed. “I ain’t stayin’ prisoner in some ancient Other temple. But if it’s what’s safe, then that’s where Hank should be.”

“Don’t,” she said. “We’ll work things out.”

Sawyer said nothing. He watched the guards and the gates but not the courtyard or those happy figures that moved around in it.

He waited for his chance. He waited for his distraction.

Jack was always good about riling up people who told him what to do— Sayid too. It figured Sawyer’s opportunity came from just such an instance of that alpha rebellion.

The Others grabbed Jack and started to beat on him. Sawyer was tempted to let the show continue until they moved in on Miles as well.

He fired two shots.

“Please,” the head honcho’s translator urged, “you don’t have to do this.” He stared down the gun Sawyer had on him. “We won’t hurt your friend.”

“He ain’t my friend,” Sawyer said. What an understatement it was. “Do what you want with him and anybody else except that blond kid runnin’ around. He stays safe or you _all_  answer for that. But me, I’m walkin’ out of here.”

“James.” Kate stepped forward, trying to reason with him one last time for Hank’s sake.

“I’m gone,” he insisted. “You understand?” He grabbed the wooden beams propped against the closed gate and threw them aside.

Sawyer opened the door. He did not— could not— look for Hank and his worried face. He heard him though, that high scream of, “Daddy!” Someone kept the boy from running to him.

“Don’t come after me.”

He closed the door.

+

Jack kept a distance from Hank, thinking it was probably for the best. He would try again, eventually, once everything calmed down and he could see what sort of existence they were left with. Then he would know where Hank’s life was and where he fit in it.

Sawyer was gone again. Kate and Jin had gone off to find him— and Sun. Jack stayed behind, afraid Sawyer might kill him, afraid he might actually put the man in a situation where he felt it was necessary. Kate told him to stay behind and look after Sayid... and Hank.

She did not understand the complexities of it all. She thought bringing a family together was the hard part, or she lied to herself about it, needing that belief when it came to Claire and Aaron. Reuniting people was comparatively easy. Making them a family was impossible, or close enough.

So Jack stayed away from Hank.

Miles was the only regular left in Hank’s life. Sawyer was gone; Jin was gone; Juliet was dead. So it was Miles that Hank followed around. It was Miles that finally made the boy get some sleep. And once he was down, Hank did not so much as move for hours. He stopped and it all caught up to him.

Jack watched him sleep from the other side of the cavernous room.

+

Sawyer dug a shoebox out of the floorboards and held it to his chest. But when he heard a creak behind him, his reflexes remained sharp and his gun was drawn.

It was Kate, of course.

“What the hell you doin’ here?” he asked, as if he could not guess. Kate never did know how to take an order.

“I was worried about you,” she said.

He did not want her concern. He walked right past her and out of the house.

Kate found him soon after, sitting on the edge of the old dock, still holding that stupid, dirty shoebox. She joined him and they stared out at the bay that should have taken Juliet away, twice.

“What’s in it?” Kate asked.

“It was my go box,” he answered, surprisingly forthcoming, “stuff I was supposed to take if I ever had to leave in a hurry— the important stuff.” He inhaled. “But we got escorted off into the sub, and I never got the chance to come after it.”

“What’s inside?”

Sawyer took the lid off and threw it in the water. He handed the box to Kate. There was a spare handgun, some cash, but mostly it was pictures, frozen images of happy days. She took one out, and it was Juliet, smiling at the camera with him behind it. Sawyer snatched the picture from her hand, and before Kate could object, he threw it in the water.

“Sawyer!”

She held the box away from him, forestalling his mindless, moping destruction. He did not plan to purge them all, just most of them.

“I’ll hold onto these,” Kate said.

She stacked them neatly and put them in her backpack. Hank’s grainy sonogram printout was on top, and he saw it before she hid them away. How happy Sawyer had been then— scared, upset, lonely without Jack, but happy all the same— because Juliet was with him.

“A couple days ago,” Kate said, “you asked me why I came back to the island.” She stopped, putting off an answer Sawyer no longer cared about. “I need to find Claire. I thought... maybe if I could catch up to you, you could help me, and then... Maybe if we could find her and bring her back to Aaron, then maybe all of this wouldn’t have been for nothing.”

Sawyer sniffed, trying to pull back some of his emotion and failing. “That it, huh?” he asked. “You really followin’ me because you need my help?” He watched the water beneath his feet, inches away and many yards deep. “Or was it ‘cause you didn’t want another kid to feel responsible for after their parent went off wandering into the jungle?”

“I’m sorry,” Kate said, not answering his question. Maybe it was yes to both. Or maybe it was only the first and she had a greater faith in him than he had in himself. “I never should’ve followed you.”

Sawyer huffed, not a laugh but something attempting to be strong like one. “Which time?” he asked.

Their eyes followed the water as it stretched far away and left. It left. It got to leave, like they might never do.

Kate pointed across to the Barracks. “That was your house, right?” she asked, picking it right out. “And Juliet?”

“Next door,” Sawyer answered, “one house over. Always close in case I needed her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No,” she said, “for Juliet.” Kate tried to take the blame for Juliet’s death, to make herself feel worse or to make him feel better. Kate thought if she had not convinced them off that sub, Juliet might still be alive.

“It’s not your fault,” Sawyer said, correcting her and putting all the blame where it belonged. His lip twitched when he tried to speak and he cried when he did not want to. “It’s mine. She was sittin’ right there, right where you are now,” he remembered, “tryin’ to leave this place.” He should have let her. “But I was... I was pregnant, and I was so... damn sure it was gonna kill me. And I was just,” he swallowed, “so scared of bein’ alone when it happened that I was willin’ to make her stay here and- and suffer through losin’ another patient. I convinced her to stay.” Sawyer was crying. Each word got harder to say, like they were gathering together and gaining weight as he pushed them up a hill. But he still needed to say them, now or never. “I made her stay on this island,” he whispered, “‘cause I didn’t want to be alone.” He slowly exhaled all the air he had in him. “You understand that, right?” He needed Kate to know why he did it, so she could condemn or exonerate him with an informed decision. “But, uh,” Sawyer shook his head, afraid of her judgment or he absolution, interrupting before she could give it, “I think some of us are meant to be alone. We’re bad news, bad luck for everyone around us, and maybe they’re better off, right? We should just... we should leave them alone.” He tried not to think about Hank, about how he kept leaving his son and risking his life. He tried not to think about how it made him no better than Jack. “I loved her,” Sawyer confessed, so thoroughly tangled in Juliet. Each memory was a strand of web with his anguish as the great spider that would devour him. “I loved her. Not like...” He shook his head. “Probably not like what you think when you hear the word. I wasn’t ’in love’ with her. But it wasn’t like what you feel for your granny either. I loved her,” he said again. He sniffed. “We maybe coulda had something... if Jack’s dick hadn’t gotten there first.” He was too grim, too ragged to take responsibility for his own contributing actions therein. “If y’all never did come back, and when Hank got a little older... I’d always planned to try again with her. I was gonna try again.”

He wanted Kate to say something, to shut him up, to make him stop.

“I’m sorry, James.”

They were not the magical healing words he wanted but did not deserve. She had nothing better to say, but that was not her fault. There were no right words for his situation. And even if the perfect sympathies had been strung together, tailor measured to suit him, he would not have wanted anything to do with them. Thus was his mood. He wanted to be inconsolable.

“She was a better parent to Hank than he’ll ever be,” he said, revering Juliet while deriding Jack. At the moment Sawyer felt like any other emotions outside of pain or anger were too exhausting. It would stretch him thin.

He stood up and began walking back down the dock.

“You can probably make it back to the temple by nightfall.”

He left her to her own path, whether that be to return to the temple or go out on a fool’s errand looking for Claire. He wished Kate all the best, but he would not join her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t really halfway (there’s still a lot more), but it seemed like a good place to break season six up. It’s set-up versus plot.
> 
> I know Sawyer leaving Hank feels a bit odd. But at the same time, he really isn’t doing too hot. And like I wrote, it’s Jack’s turn to spend time with his son. Coming up in the next chapter! Two more left, guys. Just the next one and an epilogue.
> 
> And just a reminder, I love comments. ♥


	10. Season Six - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I went back on my word again. I split the last chapter up. Just for a little break before the end. So there’s this chapter and then two more that I’ll submit together. Eventually. It’s mostly done but for the editing. And the fact that I’m still not 100% happy with certain parts.
> 
> This chapter is fairly short. Probably the shortest of the whole fic. But a lot happens so...

Sawyer was in his bedroom when someone new showed up. He was sitting back in a corner and drunk off his ass as they walked in. His gun was somewhere, but he did not care enough to find it. No one seemed to want him dead now anyway. Even the damn Others were trying to protect him.

“Hello, James.”

It was the voice that finally got his attention— clear and crisp, calm and manly. Sawyer knew exactly who it was.

“I thought you were dead,” he told John Locke.

“I am.” Perfect.

Sawyer poured them both an overflowing glass of whiskey. He could be a good host if he wanted. He could force a little civility and not drink out of the damn bottle. But he was not putting on pants.

He handed Locke a glass and sat down on the broken sofa. “Here’s to bein’ dead,” he toasted. It was Sawyer’s immediate mission to drink himself into a state where it felt true. Then maybe he could climb back up from rock bottom, for Hank’s sake.

Locke was surprised that he was not surprised. Sawyer did not care about the dead rising, not if it was only John Locke. He told the man to swallow his drink and get out of his house, but Locke set his glass down and stepped away from it.

“This isn’t your house, James,” he said.

“The hell it ain’t,” Sawyer argued. Who was going to challenge his ownership? He might actually look for his gun if someone tried.

“No,” Locke disagreed. “You just lived here for a while. This was never your house.”

Sawyer did not need nor want a deep, philosophical debate. And while it was a very ‘Locke’ thing to say, there was something wrong with the way the man said it. Sawyer leaned forward. “Who are you?” he demanded of the intruder. “‘Cause you sure as hell ain’t John Locke.”

His observation perturbed and impressed the stranger simultaneously. Clearly he had been having a lot of fun fooling other people. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

“‘Cause Locke was scared,” Sawyer answered. He was staggering in the bottom depths of drunkenness and apathy, but Sawyer still knew people. “Even when he was pretending he wasn’t. But you,” he considered, appraising the imposter, “you ain’t scared.” It was an almost terrifying concept in and of itself. They were all scared. They were all afraid and confused and worried, always. Confidence and courage stuck out like the only color in a world of gray.

The man, the thing, would not answer Sawyer’s question directly. That should have added to his unease about the figure, but instead it had Sawyer listening. Because he claimed to be the person who knew why Sawyer was on the island. And it was not the obvious explanation. It was not because Sawyer’s plane crashed, or because his raft blew up, or even because the helicopter he took off in was one too heavy. Those occurrences were simply how he got there, why he stayed.

“That’s not why you’re here,” it told him. “And if you come with me, I can prove it.”

Proof sounded nice, novel. It was too good to be true, if Sawyer wanted to argue the matter. But he was curious as well, and so he took a moment to consider the offer.

“What would you do, James?” it asked while waiting on his reply. His stolen figure bubbled with almost imperceptible excitement over his question. “What would you do if one day your son wanted off the island?”

Sawyer snorted. He picked his hand up and dropped it back against his thigh with a slap. “I dunno,” he said. “Give him the best of luck and a sack lunch? Man, screw the island.”

Locke smiled at him. It was not the warm comfort that smile had once been. It was cold approval. A test had just been passed. “I like your attitude.” He pointed at Sawyer’s dripping glass. “And I really don’t think you should be drinking.”

“And why’s that?” Sawyer scoffed. He took another swallow for the sake of sheer defiance.

“Because you’re pregnant.”

Sawyer looked at the glass in his hand. He could finish the whole thing. He wanted to. But whoever this thing was, this Locke but not Locke, he had enough of an eerie feel to him that he probably knew things like that, even after a scant week’s time. “Son of a bitch,” Sawyer muttered under his breath. He could not even rile up the energy to be angry. Of course his one stupid night with Jack Shephard actually stuck. Because they were on goddamn fertility island, and that was how his luck usually ran. Life had been so good then, just a few days ago. The idea seemed decent, if still swimming in stupidity. “Sure,” he sighed. “Yeah, why not? Sounds about par for the damn course.” He tossed his glass of whiskey away and it shattered on the floor, spilling everywhere. He did not care. “Well, aren’t you gonna congratulate me on another nine months of hell and sobriety?”

“Congratulations, James,” it said. “You’ll do fine. You’re a good father.”

Sawyer snickered. It hissed in the back of his throat like a wheezing cough. “Left my damn son in a temple full of killers.” He shook his head with a derisive laugh. “And I ain’t just talkin’ about the Others.”

“You’re a killer too, James.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” It seemed the sort of miserable statement to drink over. Sawyer missed his whiskey.

“You left Hank where you thought he’d be safe while you blow off some steam,” Locke said. “You don’t want him to see you like... this. You’re mourning Juliet. You’re mourning that life you rented. You know you’re supposed to be strong for Hank, and you can’t have him seeing you as anything less. You’ll go back for him, when you’re ready. But right now we have work to do.”

The man— the thing— that was talking to him was not Locke, but he had the same ability to decipher Sawyer’s thoughts and intentions when he was not even sure himself. He would help Locke with his plan, simply because he had one when no one else did.

“Well, I guess I better put some pants on.”

+

Jack was not in a mood for being dragged around in someone else’s game. But Hurley had been right more often than anyone lately, and he said Jacob needed them to do something. Jacob said he had what it takes.

They followed the gray stone tunnels deeper into the temple. Hurley counted hieroglyphics and then stopped to push one. The motion opened a secret passage. It was dark, black, but it smelled fresh, not ancient and closed off. It smelled like outside. They were leaving.

Jack thought about his son. Maybe the temple was the safest place for Hank. Maybe Miles was the best person left to look after him. However, Jack had never been very good about entrusting important matters to other people. It was probably that alpha side of his brain, but yes, he had control issues. If Sawyer was not there to keep an eye on their son and protect him, Jack trusted no one else.

“I’m bringing Hank,” he decided.

“I don’t know, man,” Hurley said, thinking it through very carefully. “Jacob said just us.”

“Hurley,” Jack sternly said, giving no allowance for his disagreement, “I’m not leaving my son.”

“Yeah, no,” he quickly consented, “of course. Just us three though.”

Jack agreed to that. There was no one else he wanted to bring. They would, should, remain safe inside the temple.

As confirmation of Jack’s paranoia, Miles was a lax babysitter, ignorantly certain that no bad would happen behind high stone walls. When Jack walked into the pool room, the man was nowhere to be seen— eating or resting most likely, exploring possibly.

Hank was unattended and throwing small rocks into the dark, bubbling water. It seemed disrespectful, but Jack was not one to scold when it was not even his pool. It did, however, look unsafe for him to be playing around the water like that.

“Hank,” he called. The boy looked up. “Come over here, buddy.”

He tossed his handful of rocks in all at once. A few stuck to his palm and he stood there wiping them off, in no immediate hurry to obey Jack’s command. As soon as he finished, he walked over, and he looked up at Jack with big, curious eyes.

“Hey, Hank,” Jack greeted with a grin too large. “We’re gonna go for a little walk, okay?”

Hank stuck his arms up. “You hold me?” he asked.

Jack smiled more naturally. He bent down and picked the boy up. His legs wrapped quickly around Jack’s waist like he must have been so used to doing with Sawyer. “Just a little walk,” Jack said again, “you, and me, and Hurley.”

“We gon’ go see Daddy?” Hank asked. “We see Daddy?”

Jack’s smile cracked, but he fitted it back into place. “Maybe,” he said, a murky answer. “We’ll have to see if he finds us.”

“And Juliet and Jin,” he listed off. “They gon’ find us too.”

Jack knew Sawyer had already given Hank the mortality talk. Juliet was gone. She was not coming back. But a two-year-old was stubborn and innocently naïve. If he wanted something badly enough, the adults would give it to him. Jack doubted he had kind enough words to properly explain death to him again.

“Maybe.”

He looked around to see if they were being watched, by Miles or the Others. They made a clean escape.

+

“I’m gonna tell him,” Jack said.

“Tell who what?” Hurley replied.

Jack pointed at Hank, watching the boy ‘scout ahead’ while under orders not to run too far away. “I’m gonna tell him I’m his father.”

“He doesn’t know yet?”

“No,” Jack said. “And Sawyer’s not around anymore to stop me.”

“Oh,” Hurley said with a nod. “So... do you want me to stop you then?”

“What? No!”

“Well, I don’t know!” Hurley exclaimed. “Why are you telling me about it instead of just doing it?” Jack did not have an answer. “‘Cause the way I see it, dude, you either want me to talk you out of it... or you want me to talk you into it. In which case,” he said, trying the other option, “yeah man, go get ‘em. You tell that kid you’re his dad or... something.”

“Thank you, Hurley.”

“He deserves to know, and you deserve to tell him.”

“That’ll do,” Jack said with a grin.

“But... you know,” Hurley told him, “we should probably do Jacob’s thing first.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “we’ll do Jacob’s thing first.”

He felt relieved to put it off a little longer. Because no matter how badly he did want Hank to know who he was, it was like Hurley said: he either needed to be talked into it or out of it. He was too much of a coward to pick one without encouragement.

Jack ruined his chance. He fouled the waters. He had a temper, he knew, and sometimes it got the better of him. Adults could understand. Adults knew how stressed he always was and that sometimes it just got to be too much.

Hank was not an adult.

His screaming, that shrieking cry, stopped Jack’s tirade. But that was not until every probing, prying mirror in Jacob’s lighthouse had been smashed.

Jack looked at the vacant frames, to the scattered shards of glass on the floor, and finally to his son. Hank retreated into one of the stone corners.

“Hank?” He was crying big, fat tears. His mouth was open in a wail. “I’m sorry I scared you. Hank, I’m sor—” Jack took a step forward, intent on consoling him, but Hank pulled back into the corner. “Hank.” He would not stop crying, and he would not look at Jack. “Hank. Hank, I’m—”

He ran past Jack and straight for Hurley. Though Hank barely knew him either, he imployed the old adage of ‘any port in a storm.’ Hurley picked him up, almost unsure of what to do. He gave Jack a sympathetic look as he tried to calm Hank by letting him look out at the ocean.

Jack dropped the telescope, his instrument of rage and destruction, and he descended the winding stairs. He sat down and watched the ocean as well, far from the shadow of the lighthouse.

+

They burned through options and plans. There seemed to be no purpose at all anymore, nothing to do but run and hide, hide and run.

The temple was, as Richard told them, a massacre. It was not safe to return. And while the man was behaving erratically, Jack did not doubt him. There was no reason to suspect falsehoods from someone with no agenda— no agenda save dying.

Jack gambled his life alongside Richard. He sat inside an old ship’s belly, certain the stick of dynamite between them would not ignite (though he ordered Hurley and Hank to a safe distance anyway). And lo, it did not blow. Jack did not die. He could not die. Because he had work to do. The confirmation gave him esteem but not a plan.

He led them back to the beach camp, that home he had not known for three years. It was close, strategically sound, and he could do with a bit of familiarity at the moment.

Hank fell asleep in Hurley’s arms. The poor little guy must have been so tired, so overstimulated. Jack was certain he had never left the safety of Dharma’s fence, never been past the border of the Barracks.

“I’ll take him,” Jack said, holding out his arms.

“Dude, are you sure?” Hurley asked. He had one hand holding Hank up and the other supporting Hank’s back, keeping him steady against his chest as he rocked from walking. “‘Cause I mean, you’re kind of... not his favorite person right now. Ya know?”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack insisted. “Sawyer said he sleeps like a rock. He won’t wake up.”

Hurley handed the boy over with no further discussion. It was Jack’s right after all.

Hank was so light to hold, such a small load. His short arms hung over Jack’s shoulder like dead weight. It was a modest happiness, just holding his son. It was all Jack had wanted for three years. It was not fair that there was so much in the way of the simple concept of comfort, normality. Sawyer hated him, and now Hank probably did too.

The beach was already occupied when they got there. It was a relief to see those familiar faces and know they were safe.

Sun hugged Hurley and then turned to Jack. She noticed Hank. “Hello,” she whispered with a curious smile. “Who’s this?”

“My son,” Jack answered. It felt good to say, and he was proud to say it. “This is Hank.”

Sun was taken aback, knowing she was owed an explanation. “He’s very handsome.” Jack would tell her all about it later.

“No,” Miles stepped forward, “he’s LaFleur’s son. Or... Ford, Sawyer, whatever the hell it is you guys call him. And I, for one, didn’t appreciate you stealing the kid right out from under me at the temple.” He clapped his hands and held out his arms. “Give him here.”

“No,” Jack denied, holding Hank closer.

“I’m his godfather— or you know, whatever the unofficial equivalent of that is,” Miles said. “So hand him over.”

“Yeah, well I’m his actual father,” Jack replied, “officially. And I’m going to hold onto him while he sleeps.”

Miles was not pleased. As Sawyer’s second-in-command for the past couple years, Jack did not expect him to be. But after all that time, it was Jack’s turn to be with his son.

He walked more inland, through the camp, looking for any shelter that was decent enough to act as shade. Jack held Hank with one arm as he tried to pick up a tent’s fallen support. Another hand, a foreign hand, grabbed the bamboo pole. It was Ben.

“He certainly does look like Sawyer,” the man said.

“Yeah,” Jack chuckled through a weak smile. “Yeah, he does.”

“And where exactly is he?” Ben asked. He took the pole from Jack and fitted it into the ground as best he could. The ragged tarp pulled flat, and it projected holes of beaming sunlight that shown down like windows from a cathedral.

“AWOL,” Jack said. “He’s fine.” It was not a lie. Sawyer needed a break, a rest, but he was too resilient to fall prey to danger. Jack was not worried for him.

Ben kept looking at Hank as he lay perched on Jack’s arm. His gaze was contemplating, scientific. “I have a fantastic memory, Jack,” he said, “truly remarkable, if I’m being immodest. And yet there are some things even I don’t remember, some things I can’t. But one thing I certainly do... is that little boy you’re holding there.” He pointed at Hank. “Not many people have been born on the island, so the ones that are tend to stick out. And then, of course, you, Kate, and Hurley photographed nicely. Tell me, how was the 70s?”

“Fine,” Jack said, “until it wasn’t.”

“You know, Sawyer once reprimanded me for being out past curfew,” Ben reminisced, “and out by the fence too. It was the name that threw me,” he thought. “After thirty years, I told myself he was only... similar to LaFleur. But time travel... that certainly does explain it.”

“I’m told you’re the one responsible for that,” Jack said. “Whatever you did to move the island, it shifted time. And I’ve realized that if you hadn’t... If that hadn’t happened... Sawyer might have died from the pregnancy.”

“Happy to help,” Ben said. He looked thoughtfully at Hank. It was an atypical emotion for him. “It’s a good age, isn’t it? They hang on every word and think everything you do is magic.”

“He hates me,” Jack said, confessing that fact to Ben Linus of all people.

Ben sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Well, that was bound to happen,” he said. “All kids hate their parents, Jack. He’s just an early bloomer.”

“I don’t... know what to do,” Jack spoke. “With Hank, with Sawyer, I keep making the wrong decisions, every time. And I... know they’re wrong when I make them. I know it only pushes the two of them further away.” Jack could not stop his rambling. He did not consider Ben a confidant by any means. Ben was a horrible man who purposefully made his own bad decisions. He was a man who had already seen Jack at his worst. Confessing more, confessing it to Ben, did not make Jack feel shameful, not as it would have if he confided in his friends. And at the end of it, Jack wrapped himself in the comfort that he could not be a worse father than Ben Linus. Being in his presence made Jack feel better about himself. It made his own inadequacies lesser.

Or maybe he had his own thoughts backwards. Maybe what his mind realized that he himself did not was that Ben learned from his mistakes.

“Are you really coming to me for moral advice?” Ben asked. He was surprised by the very idea, but it also caused him indignation. “Because this morning I was digging my own grave as punishment for killing the beneficent being that guarded this island. I stole my own daughter, _and_  I got her killed. What on Earth could I tell you that would be of any good?”

Ben had nothing and was nothing but a cautionary tale. “If your daughter...” Jack cleared his throat. “You’d do it differently, wouldn’t you? You’d make the right call?”

“Hindsight’s 20/20, Jack,” he said. “And yet who can say what I’d do, how many choices I would change? I loved— love... Alex. But I was a... danger to her... and she was better off without me. That’s all I know. Perhaps it’s all I can ever know.”

Jack was a fool to expect counsel. Ben was blinded by his own past. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Ben left, and Jack sat down in his tent with Hank, letting the boy get his nap out. Grim morals pervaded Jack’s mind like the sunlight did his tent, shining through the frayed holes of his once strong confidence. He thought of how Sawyer and Hank would have been better off if he never returned. They would still be in their Dharma house, and Sawyer would think of him only on occasion. Jack would not have to know such horrible things about himself, like the fact that he would risk Hank’s life for the thinnest possibility of putting himself in it from the very beginning. He held the boy tighter. Hank rubbed his face in Jack’s shoulder but otherwise did not stir. Was he better for having Jack in his life? The opposite seemed too fiercely true.

Once he woke up, Hank wanted nothing to do with Jack. It was far from surprising. He had scared the boy, perhaps irreparably, though he hoped not.

Hank listened to Miles, and he interacted with most everyone who was not Jack. He was a personable boy, a happy child. He ran around the beach with his shoes off. He dug a pointless hole with a bamboo shovel. He followed a crab until someone told him he was getting too far away. Hank did what normal children did, and Jack was content to watch.

He gave his son space, an entire afternoon of it, but eventually he felt too responsible to continue avoiding him. “Hank,” he said when the boy came near, “you need to put you socks and shoes back on. It gets cold at night.”

“You tie them?” he asked, holding the small, white tennis shoes up. “Jack tie them.”

Jack smiled and picked Hank up. He sat him on a log by the fire and pulled on his socks and shoes. He tied them. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Good.”

Hank did not act as though he forgot the sight of Jack’s unchecked wrath. There was still a hesitance in him. But he was willing to let Jack do for him. And when he took the fruit platter that was, unfortunately, their dinner, Hank sat beside Jack to eat it.

After three years, Jack almost forgot the tranquility found in watching a fire in the dark. Hank liked it. The crackling, dancing sight of it soothed him. And after Richard gave a rather manic speech about them being in Hell and ran off, Jack decided it was bedtime.

“I’ve got a decent tent set up,” he told Miles. “Hank can sleep with me.”

“Look man, I don’t know what sort of feud or spat you and Jim have going on, and I don’t really _care_ ,” Miles said. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t go running off with the kid again. He’ll kill me if it happens twice.”

“All right,” Jack agreed. For the moment, it was a simple demand.

He led Hank to the shelter he set up earlier. Hank was too excited for camping in a tent to think about being afraid of Jack. He laid down on an old ratty blanket Jack found and washed.

Everyone scattered to whatever shelter they had rebuilt. Jack doubted if they slept, no matter how important it was. If only they could all have the unworried ease of two-year-olds.

Hank closed his eyes and drifted in a half-sleep, just unaware of himself enough to mumble, “‘Sunshine’.”

“Huh?” Jack asked. “What’d you say, buddy?”

“Sing ‘Sunshine’,” he said. “You sing ‘Sunshine’.”

Jack grinned and shook his head. “I don’t know that one.” There were three years in which he could have learned it. He had not. “But I can, uh... I know the chorus.”

“Daddy sing ‘Sunshine’,” Hank said.

He was talking about Sawyer, and Jack knew that. He did. But he could also fool himself into thinking it was him Hank meant, him he wanted to sing.

“You...” He cleared his throat. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me... happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I... love you. Please don’t... take... my sunshine away.” He went quiet.

“You go again?”

Jack complied, singing the part he knew over and over.

Hank was almost asleep when Jack asked, “Can I sing you another song, Hank? My dad... When I was a little boy, my daddy sang it to me.”

He yawned and nodded his head.

“Catching a falling star and put it in your pocket,” Jack sang.

By the end of it, Hank decided he liked “The Star Song”. But he also still liked “Sunshine”. And that was how it should have been, two lullabies for Hank every night, sang to him by his parents.

+

Sawyer wanted to confess to someone, anyone, just so he could get the weight of it off his chest.

Locke gave him the news and then never brought it up again, not that Sawyer wanted to discuss it with him anyway.

Jin was there, injured but whole, in Claire’s garbage woven clubhouse. Sawyer considered telling Jin he was pregnant. He was a friend. He could offer advice, support. But with everything else going on, with Jin still worrying over Sun, it seemed selfish to unload on him.

Not long after Jin woke up, Kate came in with Sayid and a big group of Others from the temple. Sawyer thought hardest about telling her. But when he opened his mouth, all that came falling out was concern. “Hank, Jack, Hurley, all the rest of ‘em, they make it out of the temple all right?”

He was worried from the second Locke said that those not among them were killed by the black smoke. But Sawyer was also certain that no one— no thing— on the island was stupid enough to touch one hair on his son’s head. Kate confirmed.

“I saw them leaving on my way back,” she said.

It figured Jack would drag Hank around with him, to keep on eye on the boy as he no doubt told himself. Honestly, it relieved Sawyer just a little bit. Jack would gamble with their son’s existence but not his life. Hank would be safe with him, for now.

“What about Miles?” Sawyer asked.

“I don’t know what happened to him.”

He was safe, Sawyer assured himself. The man did not make it through three years of lying and fighting just to be taken out by a cloud of smoke.

There was a beat of silence, two, three. If Sawyer did not know better, he might have thought she was waiting on him to admit to it. He wore it on his face, in his posture. How could everyone— how could Kate— not read it right off him?

But it was just his imagination. All she asked about was why he followed Locke. Sawyer was not following anybody, but he would play along with the guy that said he could get them off the island.

Kate did not understand, and if he tried explaining the situation to her, it could only be a hypothetical. Her son was safe back in the real world. She did not share his rickety burden. She was not forced to take risk after risk just to ensure her son’s wellbeing. She was not required to weigh the dangers of each task not only for personal safety but also for that of an unborn child.

She did not know what he was dealing with because he would not tell her. There had not been worse circumstances for a pregnancy announcement since the last time Jack knocked him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble picking a stopping point. There’s another part in (what is now) the next chapter that would have been a good place to leave it hanging. But I decided to stop here, right before everyone meets back up again.


	11. Season Six - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final official chapter. There will, of course, be a brief epilogue after this.

Hurley went first. He announced their arrival into Locke’s camp and demanded a ceasefire on both sides. Jack would not risk Hank or anyone else’s safety until that agreement was reached.

Whether he was sincere or placating, Locke bowed before their terms. No one would be hurt on either side.

Jack followed Lapidus and Sun out into the clearing. Hank’s hand tightened around his fingers.

The camp was dark, lit only by small groupings of fires. They outlined people in orange, like the sun rising behind a mountain range. There were many faces gathered around, staring, waiting. Jack was always good at picking Sawyer out of a crowd. And Sawyer found the two of them as well.

“Hank!” he shouted.

“Daddy!”

Hank dropped Jack’s hand and ran to Sawyer the instant he spotted him.

Sawyer picked him from the ground and raised him up. He hugged Hank tight and twisted back and forth, swinging those short, dangling legs. “There’s my boy,” he said. “There’s my boy.”

“I miss you,” Hank said, and Jack could hear him crying. He was so brave to be only two, but he gave it up the moment he was back with his father. He was allowed to be a baby with Sawyer.

“Oh, I missed you too,” Sawyer cried. He put a hand against the back of Hank’s head and held it close as he pressed a hard kiss into his hair. “Mm, I missed you so much.”

“I stay and I be... I be with you, please?” Hank asked.

“Yeah,” Sawyer answered. “Yeah, buddy, you ain’t leavin’ my side anymore.”

For a moment, it defused the high tension of two groups mingling. No one said anything. No one attacked or even moved. Everyone took in the simple joy of a parent and child reuniting. Apparently, they all needed it— all except one.

“Jack,” Locke called.

He had been warned, but Jack still could not believe it. Locke was standing there, alive, breathing. But he was not John.

“I think we have some catching up to do.”

It was important they talk, but that did not give Jack the incentive to do so. Whether or not Sawyer still hated him, Jack wanted to hug him just as strongly as the man did Hank. He wanted to go and join and be a family against every odd.

But priorities were important, and on the island they meant survival. Jack gave Sawyer his own time to be with Hank again. He handed Hurley his backpack, and then he followed Locke into the trees.

He, the monster, confided that all he wanted was to help them leave— and to go with them when they did. Jack felt no safer for the explanation of his motives. And he did not appreciate the derogatory comments against John, despite having once said many of them himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

Locke gave his permission with a nod. “Shoot,” he said.

“How much of him is in there?” Jack asked. “Locke, his memories, how much?”

“I know what he knew,” it said.

“Three years ago,” Jack spoke, “Boone died. He died, and I couldn’t save him. Was he... Were he and John...” He could not finish the question because a large part of him did not want its answer. It haunted him, as so many things did, and confirmation would turn regrets to ghosts.

The monster told him anyway. “If you’re asking if they had sex,” he said, “the answer’s yes. Boone ran out of those little pills pretty quick. He went into heat, asked the alpha he trusted, just like I imagine James did with you.” He paused, regarding Jack’s intent behind asking. “But if you want to know if Boone was pregnant, I can’t tell you that. Because Locke didn’t know for certain. And it ate at him. It just- it ate at him until the day he died.”

“Why would you tell me that?” Jack questioned, appalled. It was not what he wanted.

“Because you asked,” it replied, “so I told you what I knew.” His smile was a snake whose glinting mirth did not slither up into his eyes. They were emotionless, dead. “But you’re focusing on the wrong thing, Jack. Boone is gone, Locke too. You need to help the people that are left. You need to get them off the island. You need to get _your family_ ,” he emphasized, “off this island.”

“I’ll do what’s best for my family,” Jack stated, speaking in opposition and anger.

“Well, Jack,” he said, “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

His words cut and Jack had no rebuttal. He left the man, the monster, and went back to camp.

Sawyer had his own fire, which suited everything Jack knew about him: resourceful, independent. Hank was in his lap and laying against his chest. He was no doubt asleep after another big day.

Jack watched. He could have stood there forever, just watching. It was not fondness that kept him; it was the heavy acknowledgement that Locke was right. He had no idea how to care for or plan for or even protect those two who meant so much to him. Every attempt pushed them further away.

But Sawyer was always full of surprises.

He caught Jack looking, and instead of giving that hateful glare of his, he patted the log he sat on, calling Jack to take the seat beside him.

The invitation pulled its eager victim, and Jack did join Sawyer at his fire. They were quiet. Jack waited on him to start a conversation or to indicate if they were even going to have one.

There were worse ways to wait and pass away time than sitting with his son and that omega who turned his world upside down.

“Thank you, Jack,” Sawyer eventually said, and it confused Jack more than anything that he should be receiving gratitude. “For gettin’ Hank outta that temple, for keepin’ him safe. Thank you.”

“It’s what a father does, right?” Jack responded.

“You asking ‘cause you’re not sure?”

Jack laughed at himself and how pathetic he was. “Yeah, maybe,” he said.

“Yes,” Sawyer attested, telling Jack like it was a genuine lesson he was letting him in on, “that’s what a father does.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

Hank’s thumb was in his mouth, and Jack thought Sawyer either did not notice or else took pity and let the boy have that small comfort of infancy. Sawyer rubbed Hank’s back up and down, a steady, soothing movement. “We’re leaving,” he said.

“I don’t trust Locke,” Jack demurred.

“Join the club,” Sawyer huffed. “But between two evils, I got my pick. I made a deal with Widmore. He’s on Hydra Island with a sub. And if he decides he doesn’t wanna give us a lift, we’re stealing his ride. So thank you, Jack,” he said again. “‘Cause I couldn’t leave until you brought me Hank.”

“How are we getting to Hydra Island? What’s the plan?” Jack asked, giving all his support and subservience to the man.

“Makin’ it as I go,” Sawyer said. “Too many moving pieces to keep one going for long.”

Jack would do whatever was asked. He would go where needed and act as ordered. But even if they switched roles, even if Sawyer dominated and he submitted, Jack was still possessively concerned. “You should get some sleep,” he suggested. “I’ll keep watch, for Locke or whoever else.”

Sawyer did not object, but he did not move to action either. He was thinking about something. It put him on edge.

“Claire’s givin’ us looks,” Sawyer commented. He was watching Hank though, not the crowd, and the fact he was aware of Claire was pure skill. Situational awareness was one of his strengths. He always knew what was going on around him. It was how he survived. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Jack said. “She’s... curious about me now that we know we’re siblings.”

“It ain’t about you,” Sawyer denied, removing Jack from his own center of attention. “Little blond boy, ’bout the same age if you take off a year. Tell me she ain’t crazy enough to mistake our Hank for her Aaron. She already tried killin’ Kate over the damn situation.”

There was paranoia, and then there was appropriate concern. Jack knew which this was. “Okay,” he said. “You keep an eye on Hank. I’ll keep an eye on Claire.” And that was all he would say on it, not wanting to accuse his sister before there was anything to accuse her of. Besides, he was much more interested in repeating, “‘Our Hank’?”

“Shut up,” Sawyer muttered.

+

If Jack were on Locke’s side, he would have warned the thing against trusting Sawyer. They all made the mistake at one point or another. However, since they were not allied, Jack had no regrets in watching the predictable unfold.

Sawyer took Kate and Hank with him to retrieve Desmond’s boat, as instructed by Locke, but he pulled Jack aside before leaving. He said to bring a small, select group of people and to meet him at a separate rendezvous point. Jack followed his instructions to the letter. He snuck Hurley, Sun, and Lapidus away from Locke’s trail of followers.

Claire noticed them leave. She followed.

She cocked her rifle and held it on them. She walked down the dock, down to the boat. Against any and all odds, Kate reasoned with her, winning her trust with promises of a reunion with Aaron.

At mention of her son, Jack noticed Claire’s gaze drift from Kate and hone upon Hank. Sawyer took a step between them, eclipsing the boy from her sight.

“Wait a damn min—”

“Sawyer,” Kate interrupted, “shut up. She’s coming or I’m not.” And that was that. Claire climbed aboard.

Sawyer kept one eye on her, and before they shoved off, Jack heard him whisper an order of, “Hank, you stay away from that woman, ya hear?”

Sawyer was good at sailing, good enough to direct the boat anyway. Hank loved every minute of it, even though he could not leave Sawyer’s side or the seat behind him. He looked cute in the orange lifejacket many sizes too big.

Jack stayed at the bow of the boat, as far from Sawyer and Hank as possible. He had decided he would not intrude unless invited. However, instead of summoning him back, Sawyer went to him. He handed guard of Hank and control of the boat over to Kate the moment everyone else went below deck. He walked the length of the vessel until he came to Jack.

“Didn’t think you’d show up, Doc,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“Takin’ orders ain’t your strong suit,” he elaborated, knowing every time Jack did so defied his nature. “Nice to see you finally came around.”

“I think we both know,” Jack said, “I’ve always had an easier time when it’s you telling me what to do.” He loved giving control up to Sawyer, even if it was only on occasion. It did not stop his stomach from being unsettled. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“What doesn’t feel right?” Sawyer asked, and Jack could see that look in his eye, that look which said be knew Jack was about to do something stupid.

“Leaving the island,” Jack answered.

Sawyer’s brow sunk low with anger. He hated to be right, and Jack hated to validate his instincts. “You wanna tell me why not?”

Jack stood up and walked the few feet between them. “Because I remember how I felt last time I left,” he said. It was a warning, if anything. He cautioned Sawyer against the emptiness of the outside world after experiencing the island. “Like a part of me was missing.”

“They got pills for that, Doc.” It was a joke and yet Sawyer was not joking. He was combating Jack’s unceasing disunity.

“We were brought here because we’re supposed to do something, James.” It would always be the ace up Jack’s sleeve to use Sawyer’s real name. It triggered those memories of submission, made him more open to discussion. But in that moment Sawyer seemed very aware of what he was doing. He did not like it. “And if Locke,” Jack went on, “that- that thing, wants us to leave? Maybe it’s afraid of what happens if we stay.”

Sawyer glared at him for several long, dragging seconds. He knew what Jack was suggesting. “Get off my damn boat,” he said.

“What?”

“You got a decision to make and you make it now,” Sawyer demanded. “Either you’re with us and you keep that damn crazy talk to yourself, or you’re goin’ in the water.”

“James,” he said, using his name once more, “this is a mistake. And I know there’s a part of you that feels that. I tried going back once already. It didn’t work.”

“You ever think that’s ‘cause you were trying to get back to _something_  and not someplace?” Sawyer contradicted. “We can all leave, Jack. And I’ll live with you in your goddamn apartment like you wanted. Just you, and me, and the baby.”

Jack smiled. “Us and Hank.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, “us and Hank.”

“He doesn’t even like me,” Jack said, shaking his head. It was a depressive truth, though not surprising. He always knew he would be a terrible father. And he did not even have the courage to mention the incident at the lighthouse.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve used the past couple days givin’ the boy nothing but reasons,” Sawyer said. “Kids, though, they change their minds with nothin’ but a good long nap in between. But if you can’t do it... If you don’t want that, Jack, then hop off. We’ll make it on our own and we won’t ever look back. ‘Cause I don’t need you walkin’ around with regrets and blaming me for it.”

“Or you could stay,” Jack reasoned. “Me... and you... and Hank, all of us on the island, just us.”

“Only reason I got talked into going along with your nuke idea was ‘cause I wanted a better life for Hank, a life off this rock. And now you’re tryin’ to convince me to stay?” Sawyer asked. “I’m done with the island.”

“It’s not done with us,” Jack insisted, sounding like a crazy person, or Locke.

“Yeah, well, I’m done with it. You wanna take a leap of faith, Jack,” he said, nodding his head to the side, “then take it. Get off my damn boat and leave me and mine alone.”

Jack looked at Hank, little more than that orange lifejacket with a blond head at the top and kicking feet at the bottom. He loved the boy. But Hank did not need him. Maybe he was better off with only Sawyer.

Slowly, Jack turned around, facing the water, so unsure of himself but knowing which choice felt right. “I’m sorry that I got Juliet killed,” he said, “and that I almost erased Hank’s... his existence.” Sawyer did not forgive him. He never would and Jack knew that. “It’s sort of like last time,” he commented with a grin, watching the waves go by. “Only it’s a boat instead of a helicopter, and me jumping instead of you.” He exhaled. “And you’re not... you’re not pregnant this time.”

Sawyer nodded his head, looking reserved, pensive. “Yeah,” he agreed. He looked out onto the water and he took a deep breath of that ocean air. “And I’m guessin’ there ain’t nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

Jack thought for a moment, earnestly thought, then he shook his head. “No.” He took one more look at Sawyer, probably his last look, then he climbed over the rope handrail.

“I’m pregnant,” Sawyer said as he jumped.

Jack struck the water with a hundred unplanned thoughts. They hit at him, tossed and overtook him, like the rocking waves all around.

The boat sailed away, flying by him as he bobbed up and down. “You son of a bitch!” he thought but did not yell. Sawyer gave him every opportunity to change his mind without betraying that one, most important cause. And now they both knew that if he came running back, there was only one reason. Sawyer was good at protecting himself like that.

+

Widmore betrayed the deal. But given Sawyer’s plan to steal the man’s submarine, the preemptive double-cross was unsurprising.

When Jack rescued them from the cage, Sawyer looked relieved. There was, in that moment, no trace of dread in him, though he surely knew about the inevitable conversation that was coming.

Hank was crying, scared out of his mind by the smoke monster that billowed around them and slaughtered Widmore’s men. Sawyer picked him up. Jack grabbed the man’s arm, and they made a run for it, away from the Dharma station.

By the time the sun rose, danger felt lessened. They slowed to a normal pace as they made their way for the plane: the new plan of escape. Hank was fast asleep on Sawyer’s shoulder. The poor boy was exhausted. He was pushed to his limits. They all were. But it hit his meager endurance hardest.

Jack led with Lapidus at the front, vigilant against any threat and armed with a rifle to stop it. When he felt they were safe— however temporary the state was— Jack slowed down until he was walking with Sawyer in the middle of the line.

“Thanks for comin’ back for us, Doc,” Sawyer said. “Appreciate it.” He meant all of them, the group, and Jack knew that. But the way he said his thanks made it sound like the sentiment did not extend past himself and Hank. He thanked Jack for protecting the two of them— his omega, his child, his family.

Jack nodded his head in reply.

Sawyer seemed quite content to let the elephant in the room go unaddressed. He never did like discussing serious matters.

Jack moved his rifle to his left hand. His right reached up and clutched Sawyer’s sleeve. He pulled him back. Everyone walked past and they took up the rear, following from a distance. Jack would not put off the conversation until Sawyer was ready. He had done plenty of that throughout their time together.

“Why did you tell me you were pregnant?” He asked the question Sawyer knew was coming. “Were you just trying to make me suffer for... for leaving you again?”

“No,” Sawyer answered simply, “I told you I was pregnant, Doc, because I am pregnant. And, yes, you’re the daddy,” he added before Jack could question it, not that he would have.

“Okay.” Jack knew what the right thing was in that moment, and he hated that is was. “Then you- you...” He shook his head and took a breath before trying to speak again. “You need to leave the island. You’re right. Because whatever has happened here, to pregnant people, it’s already happened in this time. So you need to leave. And I’m going to make that happen.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Sawyer laughed, knowing full well that he was the problem last time Jack tried to save him.

“We’ll get on that plane,” Jack promised, “together.”

“What about your damn precious island?” Sawyer retorted.

“What about my family?” Jack said. “I think it’s time I got my priorities right for once.”

Sawyer sighed, but it could just as well have been a deep exhale of exhaustion caused by hiking and carrying a toddler. “I knew you’d do this,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t tell you I was pregnant until you couldn’t change your mind. I’m not dragging you back to the real world, Jack. I won’t be the cause of your regrets. What kind of life is that for... shoot, any of us?”

“I would regret not seeing my kids grow up a hell of a lot more than I’ll miss this island,” Jack told him. “I thought I... I thought you’d be better off without me. I am so... damn bad at this, I thought I could do more good staying on the island, away from you. But maybe this is my chance to get it right.” Jack looked at Hank and thought about the selfish decision he made to give himself another shot. “So we’re going home together, all three...” He chuckled. “All _four_  of us.”

Sawyer laughed like there was some hilarious joke played on Jack. “Hell,” he huffed, “probably not even true. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s only been about a week.”

“Then how do you—”

“Locke told me,” he said. “So you can see where the bastard’s just messin’ with my head, more ’an likely.”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s all it is. He’s just trying to give us one more thing to worry about instead of him.”

Neither of them truly believed that.

Unless he was forward thinking enough to stuff a bottle of suppressants in his pocket, Sawyer had not taken a pill in days. Something was keeping his heat at bay.

+

Locke told them the plane was rigged with explosives, making it an unstable method of escape. Their plan returned to Widmore’s submarine.

Jack felt arrogantly immortal. Nothing could touch him. Nothing could keep him from he was meant to do, whatever it was— not dynamite, not missiles, and not planted explosives. Therefore, he did not think twice about climbing into the Ajira airplane and taking what he needed.

Sawyer waited for him while everyone else began following Locke to the submarine. He sent Hank ahead so he and Jack could speak in private. Again, they brought up the back of the line in a way that would soon look suspicious if they kept it up.

“You say you wanna do what’s best for your family?” Sawyer asked. “Time to prove it, Doc. I don’t trust that thing one bit.” He was glaring at Locke, far ahead. “So here’s what I need you to do. Once we get to the dock, you make sure it doesn’t get on the sub.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Jack asked. “You saw what it did back there.” It threw people. It broke them and killed them.

“Just get it in the water,” Sawyer told him. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay,” Jack said. If Sawyer expected a fight, he was not going to get it, not from him, not anymore. Jack promised he would get his family off the island. He meant it, even if that escape resulted in him being left behind. “Just, uh...” He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, feeling oddly nervous. “Give him this, will you?” He presented the bear he had bought Hank from the airport gift shop. “Hank, he’s- he’s worried, man. He’s upset. Maybe this’ll make him feel better. You don’t have to say it’s from me.”

Sawyer looked at the innocent toy in Jack’s hand. He took it slowly, hesitantly. He was good at putting Hank first. His fingers dug through soft brown fur as he turned it over in his hands. “Don’t tell him, huh?” He lowered the bear and looked Jack in the eye. “You realize if you did more stuff like this, the boy might actually like you,” he said, and it cost him an arm and a leg to say it. He kept pulling second chances out of thin air for Jack. “It’s about what’s best for him, Jack. It ain’t what makes you look good or feel good.”

“I know,” Jack said, and he liked to imagine he finally was understanding that. “Just... give it to him. Please.”

“I’m going to,” Sawyer said. The idea of anything else never crossed his mind. “‘Cause the boy needs it.” He watched the group that was quickly leaving them behind as they dawdled. He did not look at Jack when he said, “Maybe you make it in the sub, who knows.” Despite everything, he still wanted Jack to come with them.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Regardless of what Sawyer said about selflessness, it made Jack so happy to see Hank hold and squeeze and hug his bear. It felt good to know he made his son feel better, and he would not trade that prideful emotion for the world.

+

Somehow, Hank managed to hold onto that bear. When they fought Widmore’s men for control of the submarine, he kept it. Under a barrage of bullets, Jack passed Hank and the bear down the ladder to Sawyer.

And when Jack found a bomb in his backpack, Hank stood out of the way and hugged his bear tight, knowing something serious, something dangerous was going on even though he did not understand.

Sayid reasoned as best he could that pulling two wires at the same would disengage the explosives. Sawyer pushed him out of the way to do it, but Jack stopped him.

“No. Wait, wait,” he said, and he put his hand over Sawyer’s to stop him.

“What the hell are you doin’, Doc?” he demanded.

Jack had no idea. All he knew was that he was gambling big. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” he stated. He had never been more sure yet fiercely afraid of anything before. Locke could not kill them; that was what Jack wholeheartedly believed. Locke could not kill them. They had to kill each other. Jack told this to everyone, though his logic confused them.

Sawyer glared at him, angry and scared. “It’s not your decision to make!” he yelled at Jack. He had listened once before. Just a few days ago, he listened to Jack and let him toss a nuclear bomb down a hole. “I ain’t lettin’ you take a chance with Hank’s life again, with all our lives.”

“He can’t kill us!” Jack insisted.

“I’m not gonna stand here and do nothin’!”

“James,” Jack tried to reason, using his name. He grabbed the collar of Sawyer’s shirt and held him still against their warring tempers. “We are going to be okay,” he promised quietly, emphatically. “I will... never risk anything happening to Hank again. You just have to trust me.”

Sawyer breathed hard, less sure than Jack, wanting to believe him but knowing his record for being wrong. He looked at Hank, their son, their small, scared son whom they were both responsible for. Jack already knew that duty, that love, would trump Sawyer’s dubious trust in him. “Sorry, Doc, I don’t.”

He pulled the wires.

Nothing.

Then the timer on the watch sped up. Sayid took the bomb to save them all. It exploded, and it blew out the side of the submarine when it did.

They immediately began to take on water. In no time at all, it was over a foot deep. Jack grabbed Kate. Sawyer made sure Hurley was all right, then he picked Hank out of the flood.

Neither of them had a plan. The calamity was too massive to combat with haste. But they needed to get out.

Sun was pinned against a wall and screaming for help. Jin called out to Sawyer, unable to save her on his own. Sawyer looked at them and then frantically to the boy in his arms.

“I’ll take him,” Hurley shouted over the rushing water.

There was no time for hesitance and Sawyer handed Hank to him without a second thought.

“Hurley!” Jack called, summoning the man and his son over. “You gotta take Kate and Hank out of here.” It was so important. Jack put too much on Hurley, but he trusted him to do it, to save his son. Jack could not leave anyone in the sinking submarine, but especially not Sawyer. “I’ll take care of them,” Jack promised. There was a small oxygen tank fastened into the wall. Jack gave it to him along with his instructions. He trusted the man because he had to. “Hurley, you can do this, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jack would thank him later.

Hank was crying, screaming. His blond hair was soaking wet already and he was wholly panicked. But he held onto that bear. Jack bent forward and pressed a kiss against his head. He held Hank there for a full second before he pulled away. “Go!” he ordered Hurley.

Sawyer yelled for his help, and Jack waded through the deepening water as quickly as he could.

Together with Jin they pulled the cabinet pinning Sun. But there was so much more behind it. Before they could begin tearing metal bars apart, a pipe fell from the ceiling and slammed into the back of Sawyer’s head. The water was up to their shoulders and Jack had to hold Sawyer up just so he could breathe. He was unconscious and already there was blood dripping down his face. Sawyer did not answer when his name was called. Jack felt sick and nauseous with fear.

Jin could tell what hopelessness looked like. He told them to leave.

“No,” Jack shouted, “we can do this!” But he only had one hand. He could not let go of Sawyer, Hank’s one good parent, the one he actually needed.

“Just go! Save Sawyer,” Jin ordered, “for Hank.”

Jack knew it was a sacrifice. He knew he was leaving them to die, orphaning their child for the benefit of his own. “For Hank,” he said, honoring that chance Jin and Sun gave them.

He pulled Sawyer to the surface and the shore. And only when they were safe with solid sand below them was Jack able to confirm the man was even breathing.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, a broken utterance for his own ears. “You’re gonna be okay because Hank needs you.”

“Jack.”

He looked up and saw Hurley carrying Kate with Hank at his side. Jack felt selfishly relieved to know that his family made it when the Kwons— when Sayid— had not.

Hank was a wet mess and he fell on Sawyer hard. “Daddy!” he cried.

Jack let him lay there for a moment before picking Hank up and holding him, so grateful he was all right. “Your daddy’s gonna be okay,” he promised Hank. “He got hit in the head pretty hard, but he’s breathing. Do you understand?” Hank nodded, and he hugged Jack in return. Little arms wrapped around his neck and a soaking wet bear dripped down his back.

They dragged Sawyer further up the beach. For the rest of the long night they did nothing but stare at a fire.

Sawyer was despondent when he woke, more so when they told him Sun and Jin did not make it. And when he asked, as his burdensome conscience made him, Jack told him it was not his fault. He did not kill them. Locke did. Jack refused to let Sawyer carry that guilty weight around like he did for Juliet. Motives of selfishness versus heroism should never bear the same penalty.

+

Serenity became Jack as he stood in that still creek with its clear water. Physically, he felt the same, ordinary. He thought becoming protector of the island might change something, that he might feel stronger or at least no longer tired. But in that respect, he was unaffected. It was his mind that felt different. No, not different— calm. For the first time in three years, he noticed the beauty of the island. He watched the sun rise and glisten on the water. He saw the dark plant life turn into a vibrant green. What bits of sky were not blocked by the canopy showed through as the most stunning and tranquil of blues. The water lapping around his ankles felt so cool and soothing.

It was imprisonment. It was an undeniable separation from his absconding family. And yet, somehow, Jack felt happy.

He prayed, something he was not even sure he knew how to do. He prayed that his family would be safe. He prayed for the strength to make it happen.

“You okay?”

Jack was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he did not hear Sawyer approach. The question startled him in sound and in meaning. Despite all Jack put him through, Sawyer was still worried about him.

Jack turned around and gazed at that man standing on the bank. Sawyer was distracted, caught up in his own thoughts on the matter.

“Yeah,” Jack answered. “You?”

Sawyer shrugged. In body, he was fine, of course, but Jack could tell he was dealing with a lot emotionally. They both were. “Well,” he said, “to be honest, Doc, I’m kinda wonderin’ what the hell just happened up here.”

Jack chuckled. “That makes two of us.” He walked through the shallow water, and Sawyer gave him a hand up on land.

“So you’re the new Jacob, huh?” He was still trying to process it. He was trying to pretend he accepted it. “Feel any different?”

“Not really.”

Jack put his backpack on and he shook the water from his shoes, but he did not leave. There was an obvious conversation to be had, and for once Sawyer was going to be the one to start it. Jack waited.

“Well...” Sawyer cleared his throat and went back to silence, for once unsure of what to say. What was there? “I’ve heard of men doin’ their damnedest to avoid the obligations of fatherhood before, but you really go all out, don’t ya? Supergluing yourself to an island... I think that’ll do it.”

Jack smiled. Sawyer did not mean what he said. He knew why Jack volunteered. “You can leave now,” he said. “I wasn’t... going to risk you staying here to guard the island. I know you were thinking about it. Say what you will, James, but you do... love the island. It was your home. It’s where Hank was born, and it’s where you’ve raised him.”

“It wasn’t down to me or you, damn it,” Sawyer argued, though they both knew they were the best choices for what had to be done.

“You can’t leave until Locke’s dead,” Jack said. “He won’t let you go. I have to kill him— so you can go home, so Hank can have a normal life. I’m putting my family first, James.” He was so proud of himself for it. “If that means staying on this island, if it’s my destiny to guard it, then so be it. Because I know what needs to be done. And Hurley can’t kill Locke. He doesn’t have it in him. And Kate... she needs to go back to Aaron. There’s a reason her name was crossed out.”

“Yeah, but mine wasn’t,” Sawyer stated. It had been bothering him since Jacob said it. Kate stopped being a candidate when she became a mother, but Ford was still written in the cave and in the lighthouse. Sawyer did not understand, but Jack did. The peace he felt made so many answers seem clear.

“It’s because you never got to rest,” he explained. “Kate, she was able to be there for Aaron and nothing else. She was a mother... and nothing else. But you, James, you never got that. You had Hank and you just... you had to keep going. You had to keep working, leading. And I am so... damn surprised and- and proud of you for that. You did good. And we both... know that you could protect this island and be a father at the same time. Because you are that amazing. But I don’t want you to do that. You are too great of a parent to keep our children here or to send them away.” Jack gave up acting like Sawyer was not pregnant. He knew. Sawyer knew. “They need you... but not me.”

“Three years,” Sawyer muttered under his breath, depreciating Jack’s gallantry. “Three years you never asked anyone else before making a decision. Why the hell start now?”

“I’m doing this because I have to,” Jack said. He stepped closer, too close, and he put his palm on Sawyer’s stomach. “For my family, I need to do this. I am putting the three of you first, and I’m not- I’m not... I am not sorry.” He took his hand away but otherwise did not move. “So consider this me marking your name out. Go home and be boring, James. You’ve earned it.”

Sawyer was quiet. He shuffled on his feet, rocking nearer and farther from Jack. “Never had a home,” he said, “not back there. Closest I ever got was... was right here, on this island.”

If Sawyer wanted to stay, he would never say it. And if Jack were selfish enough to ask, he would never do it. Because he was a good parent, and it was not about what he wanted; it was what was right for his children. Jack got that now.

“I’ll check on you guys sometimes, when I can— if I can.”

“What, Jacob didn’t leave behind no rulebook?” Sawyer joked, and he looked around them as if one might be lying on the ground.

“I guess I could have asked more questions,” Jack said, laughing on the exhale. “I did- I... I asked how long I have to do it. He said for however long I can. It’s not forever, James. It’s a job, that’s all.”

They were silent on that comment. Jack would never stop so long as there was someone or something to save.

Sawyer brought his hand up and awkwardly tapped Jack’s shoulder, patting him like a dog that had done something good.

Jack wanted to kiss him. The moment felt right for it. The look in those blue eyes was one that expected it. But Jack put it off as his reward when all was said and done.

There would be time for it later, at the end.

He touched Sawyer on his shoulder in return and walked past him.

+

“That your boy?”

Sawyer looked over at Desmond as they marched across the open field, following Jack and Locke to the bamboo grove. “What gave it away?” he muttered. Sawyer was dog tired, but he carried Hank. He did not want to set the boy down, not with that monster and its sweeping moods.

Desmond chuckled. “He looks like you,” he said, “you and...” He nodded ahead instead of speaking the name, as if he somehow knew it was a secret. Sawyer was glad for it. Hank drifted in and out of sleep, and there was no telling how much he was aware of. But maybe it was a stupid fear and he should just tell the boy about his daddy already. Fear of death always reshuffled priorities like that. “Are you happy?”

“Who the hell could be happy in all this?” Sawyer scoffed, and in defiance of that simple logic, Desmond wore a wide smile. Well, he was certainly happy about something.

“I meant about the choice you made,” Desmond said, “about him, your boy. Are you still happy, Sawyer?”

“Are you still trying to live through me?”

Demand laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “But, you know, I’ve got a boy of my own now, me and Penny. He’s about the same age as yours, just a little younger.”

“Congratulations, we’ll set up a play-date if we all don’t die,” Sawyer said.

He kept smiling, and Sawyer was getting pissed off at whatever inside joke the man had going on. “It’s okay to be scared,” Desmond said, “but you don’t have to be. None of this matters. When it’s over, we’ll go someplace new, someplace beautiful.”

“Keep the poetry and whatever berries you been eatin’ to yourself,” Sawyer told him. “I got Hank to worry about, so I ain’t drinkin’ your kool-aid just yet.”

“Fair enough,” Desmond accepted. “I’d probably be the same way if my Charlie were here.”

They walked. Desmond watched him as they walked. The man looked at Hank’s sweet face where it rested against Sawyer’s chest. He smiled once more and made a silly expression at the boy. Sawyer assumed Hank was awake enough to see it.

“Yes,” he said, answering Desmond’s question. “I’m still happy with it.”

+

Fighting Locke— the monster— actually killing him, it would not be the first time something failed to go according to plan.

He went over the cliff and the storm cleared, but Jack was not without woe. His wound was deep. It was painful. It was fatal.

He almost felt guilty when Sawyer found him, as if he had lied or broken a promise.

“What the hell happened?” Sawyer asked. He gave more concern than Jack deserved. But then it was not his call to decide what Sawyer felt for him. Jack was just grateful for it.

“Locke’s dead,” Kate told him. “It’s over.”

Sawyer checked to be sure, to know that their horror was gone. Jack actually did it though. He did. He saved his family just like he said he would.

The ground shook with a mighty quake that tore apart the foundation. “It sure don’t feel like it’s over,” Sawyer stated.

“Whatever Desmond turned off,” Jack said, “I need to turn it back on again.” He pressed his hand against the punctured skin of his abdomen, holding himself together for as long as he could. “But if it doesn’t work— if I don’t get it done— you all need to leave now. You need to be on that plane.”

Jack looked at Hank. He looked at Sawyer. He needed them to leave while they could. Otherwise, it was all for nothing.

Kate begged him to let the island sink, but Sawyer was less cloying. He helped Jack back on his feet. He did not let go.

“Guess this is another kid I’m gonna miss out on.” Jack tried to laugh, to play it off as a joke, but it broke apart into a sad thing— brittle, fragile.

“Get on the damn plane,” Sawyer said. It was begging but he spoke in such a firm voice, covering up his worry and desperation. It masqueraded as an order. “You hate this goddamn island. Why the hell are you tryin’ to save it?”

“It won’t make a difference, James,” he said. “I’m... I think I’m gone either way. Locke, he- he got me good. But listen, I want you to take everyone— Hank, and- and,” he sobbed through a broad, happy smile, “and the baby. Get away, go. In case I can’t stop it.”

“You will,” Sawyer told him. “And I know you will because you are one stubborn son of a bitch.”

Jack laughed, knowing he would miss their banter, knowing he did not have very long to miss it in. He took his hand from his stomach, from that bleeding cut in his belly, and put it on Sawyer’s instead. A week was not enough time. He was still so normal and so flat.

Jack would never see what Sawyer looked like pregnant. Two separate instances and he would never know. He would never meet his second child, never know if it was a girl or a boy. But he did have a name.

“Ah, god.” He cried as he tried to get on his knees. Seeing his intent, Sawyer helped him down, supporting him. Jack bent his head forward and kissed Sawyer’s stomach through his blue shirt, dark and wet with rain water. He rested his forehead against him. “I love you, Shiloh,” he said quietly, just for the baby. “I love you very, very much. And I am... sorry that I never- I never got the chance to know... you or your brother.”

“Hank,” Sawyer called, summoning the boy from Hurley’s side. Jack knew what he was doing.

“Don’t,” he urged. “Don’t you do it, James. Don’t you do it, you son of a bitch.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sawyer said, stubborn as he ever was outside of heat. Jack never could order the man around. It was one of his favorite things about him, that proud omega.

The circumstances were not what Jack wanted, but maybe that was his own fault for messing up every prior opportunity. He did not want it to be like this, though he did need it. The idea of their secret being confessed made his heart rate quicken. His mouth was dry. His injury was forgotten, if only for a moment.

Hank slowly walked over, toddling down the rocky, uneven hillside. He was scared (of many things), and Jack knew the blood all over himself only made it worse.

“Too little, too late maybe,” Sawyer lamented, “but... but, uh...” He touched Hank on the shoulder, then he pointed at Jack where he knelt. “Hank, Jack here, he’s your, uh... He’s your daddy.”

He shook his little head. “Uh-uh.”

“I know I am. I know. But he is too,” Sawyer tried to explain. Hank had not been born into a life with both of them, and the full understanding of paternity was something he could not yet comprehend. “I know he’s,” Sawyer chuckled, “he’s not the easiest guy to get along with, but he loves you.” He looked Jack in the eye when he said it, telling him that despite everything that went wrong, he was sure of that fact. “And he’s being real brave right now— stupid as all get out, but brave. I think it would mean a lot to your daddy if you gave him a hug.”

Hank did so with barely any hesitation. He was a good kid. Jack hated to get blood on him, but he loved the feeling of that small boy in his arms. His son.

He let go and Hank stepped back. “You be a... a good boy for your dad, all right?”

“All right.”

“And you take care of that little guy,” Jack said, and he pointed to the bear, his bear, Hank was still holding.

“Yes, sir.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Hank was too young to grasp the full depths of love and the meaning behind expressing it. He parroted words back, like any child did. But hearing him reciprocate, sincere or not, made Jack cry. Hot tears leaked from his eyes and mingled with blood and sweat and the drying rain.

Jack kissed the top of his head. Then he motioned for Hank to back away from the cliff’s edge, hazardous with its breaking face and rolling rocks. He left.

One last lingering touch against Sawyer’s stomach and Jack tried to stand up. It hurt, like his insides were ripping all over again. Sawyer got him under the arms and pulled him to his feet. Jack fell hard against the man, letting Sawyer support him.

“I know that...” Jack laughed. He rolled his head back and forth against Sawyer’s shoulder. “I know you’re not into guys, but do you think maybe I could get a- a kiss for the road? For good luck.”

Sawyer pulled him away and brushed his hand over Jack’s hair, pushing it back from where it stuck wetly to his face. “You got it, Doc.”

It was everything Jack remembered. It was everything he would miss. It was a present moment he wished would stretch on into the end of time, when the earth shook from judgment and apocalypse and not because of a sinking, crumbling island he had to save.

Jack kept a hand on his bleeding stomach and an arm thrown over Sawyer’s shoulder, propping himself up as his fingertips grazed the tips of that long blond hair he loved. Sawyer held him. He took on most of Jack’s weight with just one arm because he had such strength in him. He rubbed his other hand across Jack’s face over and over, no method nor pattern to it. His thumb pushed so firm against Jack’s brow and over his cheek.

It was a good kiss for a goodbye. Jack would remember it while he could. Sawyer might even hold onto the memory for awhile.

Jack pulled away little by little. Passion defied logic but not time. Sawyer stubbornly followed his retreating lips, but eventually Jack drew back too far for them to continue.

“Can you do me a favor?” Jack said. “It’s all I’ll ask. One thing, James, just one thing. Can you just... my mother. Can you take them to see my mom? Can you let her know she has grandkids so maybe... maybe it won’t be so bad when she finds out...” When she found out he was dead, for real this time.

Sawyer brushed Jack’s hair back again, out of his face. “And what do I tell them?” he asked. “When they ask me about their daddy, what the hell am I supposed to say? ’He died tryin’ to save a stupid spit of land he never showed nothin’ but hate’?”

“You can tell them... whatever the hell you want,” Jack said. He smiled but the expression did not light Sawyer’s grave features. “Because you are a great liar. And you are the... the strongest omega I ever met. And you can do whatever you decide. You don’t need me to tell you anything.”

Sawyer kissed him again. The ground moved beneath their feet. Rocks tumbled down the cliff, and Ben yelled that they needed to go.

“I don’t love you, Jack.”

They were the worst parting words imaginable. They made him laugh. “Yeah,” Jack agreed, “I don’t know what it is either. But I’ll miss it. And I’m sorry we never got the chance to know it more.”

One more kiss one more time and Sawyer backed away. He released the support he provided and Jack staggered under his own weight. He stayed on his feet though. There was work to do.

“Go,” Sawyer said. “Go save the island like some big damn hero.”

“I’ll see you in another life,” Jack said, repeating the words Desmond once told him. And in that moment Jack hoped the beautiful place he spoke of existed for him, for all of them.

+

Kate jumped before they even discussed it as a viable option. Maybe she just wanted to take that risk first before he went down with a kid. Sawyer watched the turbulent water below and breathed a sigh when her head broke the surface. The leap from the cliff was safe.

“Hank,” Sawyer said, “we gotta go.”

Hank took a step back, knowing what his father was suggesting.

“Hey,” Sawyer called, “you think I’d do this if it was dangerous?” It was though. It was very dangerous. The fall was great. Hank could not swim.

Sawyer tossed his backpack down, abandoning it. They were leaving. God help him, they were. He would not need supplies anymore.

“C’mere.”

Hank went and Sawyer picked him up. Those little arms wrapped around his neck, clawing like a drowning cat. He was afraid.

“I’m gonna jump,” Sawyer said. “On the count of three, we go. And I want you to hold your breath, all right?” Hank nodded, but there was an uneasy noise keening in his throat, the precursor to crying. “We’re gonna be okay,” Sawyer promised. “Just don’t let go.” He stepped to the edge of the cliff. It was a long way down. He swallowed. “Now you hold onto that bear like your daddy said, ya hear? That’s the only thing I want you to worry about. The rest is on me.”

“Where Jack go?” Hank asked, sniveling through the question.

“He’s got somethin’ else to do.”

Sawyer did not want to think about Jack. He could not. There was no time— not a second— to spend on that righteous dying man.

“One... two... three!”

He jumped.

The impact hurt. Sawyer swam back up to the surface as quickly as he could. Hank laid across his back and did not let go as they made their way to Desmond’s boat.

The boy liked being on the boat again. Sawyer promised him he would love riding in an airplane even more.

Sailing was more sturdy than the quaking ground, though the waves that hit them were still far from calm.

All too soon, and yet not soon enough for Sawyer’s comfort, they were swimming again, to the shore of Hydra Island. Hank held tight enough to choke, so Sawyer was glad when he could sit the boy down on firm sand.

“Claire!”

She was sitting on the beach with a rifle by her side. Kate went running to her, but Sawyer was slower in following. He kept Hank behind him.

The island shook and knocked them down into the sand, sticking it to their wet clothes. Sawyer looked at the larger island and saw broad sections erode into the sea. Jack was still working on it.

Kate tried to convince Claire into coming with them, and Sawyer had no strong objections. He did not want to leave anyone behind.

But those eyes of Claire’s twitched from sand to Kate to what she could see of Hank. In Sawyer’s mind he was just daring her to go ahead and try something with that rifle.

“I don’t want Aaron to see me like this,” Claire said, and Sawyer relaxed. Maybe he misread the situation after all. Maybe all she saw when she looked at Hank was her own missed chance. He pitied her. And once again he felt grateful, lucky for all the time he had with his son. It was longer than Claire got. It was more than Jack did. “I don’t even know how to be a mother anymore,” Claire cried.

“None of us do,” Kate said, “not at first. But you’re not alone.” She looked at Sawyer like she knew what a bumbling idiot he was in the beginning. Or perhaps she was going off all the mistakes he made since. None of them were perfect. “Let me help you.”

“Come on, sister,” Sawyer encouraged. “Aaron and Hank ain’t got a whole lot of family left, and I’d hate to leave any of it behind.”

He was, in truth, leaving one of the most important pieces, but it was still not time to think about that, not yet.

Claire came with them. They ran to the plane and made it in with no time to spare. Sawyer buckled Hank into the aisle seat where it was safer. He took the window beside him.

The ground cracked and shook and tore apart from itself in violent death. Still Sawyer did not doubt Jack.

Lapidus got a good start on that runway Sawyer himself once helped build. Every hour of manual labor was worth every foot of road it gave them. And just when they reached the end, when trees came too close for comfort, they took off.

The plane quit the ground. They were in the air. They were safe. They were leaving.

Sawyer relaxed into his seat. He pried each finger off the armrests. They did it. He could stop worrying.

He looked out the window and watched mountains dotted with trees roll by. He looked at his home of three years, his only real home. He was leaving, and if Lapidus could keep the bird in the air until they hit land, they were safe.

Sawyer’s apprehension left him. And in that vacant cavity, suspended thoughts rushed like air into a broken vacuum, filling him to every corner.

Jack was dying.

They left him. He stayed behind to save the island and give them a chance. And they would never see him again.

Jack was gone.

Sawyer cried.

+

Jack prepared for him, and he summoned him, but still he laid amidst the bamboo field thinking Death a grievous caller.

It was unfair.

Everything he had endured, the sum of what learned, and all it did was lead him here, unto Death.

And then, unexpectedly, the most beautiful thing happened. A white plane broke across a clear blue sky. Its engines soared and rumbled. Jack watched everyone he cared about, his family, leave safely.

There were worse ways to die.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuuugh. That was painful. It's still so unfair that Jack had to die. It's a good ending, but a sad middle in what should have been a full life. And, you know, even sadder here with him never really getting to be a part of his family.
> 
> But there's the end. One more chapter left, the epilogue. I'm guessing you know what it's about. I am posting it immediately after this so there's no wait. It won't be very long though. I warn you now.
> 
> BUT #2 I'm also going to post another something from this universe as a separate fic so that I can create a series for it. Then anyone interested in possible updates can follow the series.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me single-handedly rip away the significance of the final scene for the sake of wrapping this story up semi-happily.
> 
> Ready? Let's end this bitch.

Jack entered a hall of familiar faces, his favorite people from his favorite part of life, the most meaningful. He looked around, putting each person to a name and then a memory. And when he saw one, that special one, it felt as if time slowed down.

Sawyer smiled at him.

He looked like Jack remembered, as he had seen him what felt like only an hour ago, and what very well might have been.

Jack descended the steps of the pulpit. Sawyer, the smug son of a bitch, would not meet him halfway, would not contribute at all. Jack walked every step between them.

“Hi,” he said, and it felt so lame, so insufficient.

Sawyer chuckled. “Hi to you too, Jack.”

“I, uh...” Jack had no idea what to say. He had memories of a fictitious life without Sawyer that were being overtaken by memories of a life that ended. He ended, and Sawyer went on. “You look good.”

“You too.”

Jack knew the man well enough to see Sawyer took joy in watching him squirm. He put aside words— just for a few seconds— and took action instead. Jack did what he so badly wanted. He hugged him.

It was good to have Sawyer in his arms again. It was comforting and right. Sawyer patted his back in a steady rhythm. His hand slowed and rubbed, a simple circle over the stiff material of Jack’s suit jacket. Sawyer tapped him again and stepped back, but he did not go far.

“You recognized me,” Jack realized. “In the hospital, here, we met and you... you recognized me.”

“A little bit,” Sawyer said with a grin. “Who knows what might’ve happened with a full song and dance. You recognize me any?”

“I don’t know,” Jack honestly answered. He fought against this new reality too hard. The only thing that could— the only thing that did— make him come to terms with it was his father’s guidance.

“Locke said you got a son here,” Sawyer remarked. “He thought it might’ve been ours.” He shook his head with a smirk. “You been cheatin’ on me in the afterlife, Doc?”

Sawyer always had a way of getting Jack out of his own head and making him relax. “See, I thought we broke up when you jumped out of a helicopter,” Jack said through a smile. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know though. I think... I think I knew something was missing when I got here, even though I didn’t know it. So I tried to give it to myself.”

“Then,” Sawyer said, “I’m guessin’ your little bit of unfinished business is you never got to be a daddy.”

“I never really got to prove that I could be one,” he said, “that I could be better than my father before me.”

“And did you?” Sawyer asked. “Have you done that now? Were you a good father, Jack?”

“I think so,” he said. “Maybe not... not at first. But I got better at it.” What he had with David so closely mirrored those few days with Hank. He tried too hard and pushed too much, but in the end he learned what mattered. Jack smiled. “I think I could have been great.”

“Good.” Sawyer put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, and when he became bold, he moved it to his face. Jack turned into the touch, enjoying the sensation of what could have been love with more time and fewer mistakes. “Then you gotta let go, move on.”

“I don’t want to,” Jack said. He wanted to fight. Sawyer pulled his hand back. “It’s not fair. It’s not, right? I mean, it’s... I never got to- to know them.”

“I’d pull out my wallet, but I don’t think the pictures came with me,” Sawyer said. He had a sad smile, knowing how hard it was for Jack, knowing how lucky he himself had been.

“How long?” Jack asked. “How long did you...” He could not find it in himself to say ’live.’ That only brought the image of Sawyer’s death. “How long did you have with them?”

“Long enough.” It was an ambiguous answer, but Jack felt better for it.

“We could stay here,” Jack proposed, saying it before he fully realized what he was turning down. “We can stay right here and- and do it all over again, together.”

“You think I wanna be pregnant,” Sawyer laughed, “for a third and fourth time? Stuck in a damn limbo where it won’t even matter.”

“Claire is holding Aaron right now,” Jack said, glancing over at the two of them and Charlie. “The Kwons are- are pregnant with Ji Yeon. It means something, James. It means it’s possible.”

“It means they needed their damn babies so they could remember,” Sawyer said. “But we’re here, Jack. We’re at the end.” He shuffled a little closer. “Now, there’s nothin’ making us go but a call, manifest destiny, obligation. That’s my take anyway. But this here, it ain’t real.”

“It is,” Jack debated. “My father... said it’s as real as anything.”

“All right, fine,” Sawyer conceded. “It’s real. It’s as goddamn real as you want it to be. But is that what you want, Jack? Do you really want to ignore this epiphany of death, to put off whatever’s waitin’ on the other side— just so we can play family? Do you want to go on bein’ a surgeon to people who probably aren’t really here? And me, I just pretend to be a detective until I’m so damn pregnant they switch me to desk duty? Is that what you want?”

Jack did not have to think about it. Through a lifetime of indecision and second guessing himself, he had come out the other side to a place where nothing had ever sounded simpler. “Yes,” he said. “I want that. If you would stay with me, here, just for a little while.” He laughed but the sound stuttered, beaten down by a raw desperation. “I want to date you, James. I want you to come and live with me in my apartment, just you, and me, and the baby.”

Sawyer huffed. “There ain’t no baby.”

“What do you say?” Jack asked, ignoring his defiant comment. There was no baby yet, but there could be. “It’s just eternity waiting,” he said. “We can put it off as long as we want.”

“God,” Sawyer snorted, “you’re still so sappy when you wanna be, Doc.” He looked around at the crowd. Everyone was so happy with minds made up and no second thoughts or indecisions. “So what in the hell do we say?” he asked, accepting Jack’s proposal in his prideful and indirect way. “‘Sorry, guys, Jack and me are gonna hang back and play house. Y’all go on without us.’”

“I think maybe,” Jack said with a bright grin, “we won’t be alone.” He saw what Sawyer did, but better did he know the weight of lost opportunity. He knew the hidden lines of its fragile mask. “Too many of us didn’t have enough time together.”

“Oh,” Sawyer said, “well then, Jack, you can invite those stragglers to the baby shower.”

“Don’t do it for me,” Jack urged, giving Sawyer a chance to back out before the ferry left. “You don’t have to stay for me. It’s just a request, James. You can say no.”

“I’ll tell you now what I told you a- a long, long time ago, Jack,” he said, referencing a time that was nearer to Jack than to him. “I need you. ‘Cause I never wanted to do it alone. And that bed gets cold at night.”

All either of them ever wanted was a family, living together, growing together. They did not say so often enough.

Sawyer put his arms over Jack’s shoulders and leaned in. “Now kiss me,” he ordered.

Jack did not need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay super sappy ending. It's so gross and sweet. Last kiss mirroring their first kiss. Aww.
> 
> I'm not really sure if David would still exist in this universe after his purpose is completed. If he does exist, well... I guess he gets two younger half-siblings. And so does Clementine? Is there a Clementine?
> 
> So there's the end of this monster fic, the longest thing I've ever written. I wish it were done with me, but I still have some ideas swirling in my head. There's a 70% chance I'll write a Locke/Boone oneshot based off their day "getting caught in a net" that I keep mentioning. Maybe a Kelvin/Desmond oneshot too? I'm also a sucker for Sayid/Shannon. Those are some possibilities.
> 
> For Jack/Sawyer, I would really like to add just a little more of them in this afterlife universe. But I don't know where the cut-off point is. I don't want another epic on my hands. I'm going to play it by ear, see if I can get an outline going for a very small little sequel. If not, there's always this. And I am right now posting a short sequel fic where Sawyer visits Jack's mom like he asked, if anyone's interested. Also I remember a lot of requests for the Jack/Sawyer getting off the island and raising Aaron AU. That's a big possibility. I already have some things written down for it.
> 
> There's no telling what I'll write for this universe, but I'm probably not done. I will be taking a break to write some other things though.
> 
> I'D LOVE SOME COMMENTS SINCE WE'RE AT THE END! PRETTY PLEASE! ♥


End file.
